


Blue Blaze

by Neonna



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Domestic Disputes, Drinking, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Hangover, M/M, Mild Blood, Near Future, Pining Keith...sort of, Winter, phoenix au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:31:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8403517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonna/pseuds/Neonna
Summary: Keith is a mechanic who just wants to be left alone. Pidge picks up odd heat readings from the area where weird things have been happening, while Keith falls into a bit of bad luck.





	1. Heat Readings

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this AU came from, but it demanded to be written. 
> 
> I based the town loosely off of the Slocan valley in BC Canada. Enjoy!

Keith had given up trying to have fun. He was too tired, busy trying to keep his eyes from drooping when he should have been socializing. Shiro always dragged him out because they lived in a ditch town, and getting to know your neighbours in a place like that was a good thing. Everyone lived in houses in the middle of the sticks, there was no cell service, and even internet was dial-up only. Winter was harsh, and everyone wanted to know everyone in case someone went off the highway.

They were in the only bar in town that functioned as a family restaurant during the day. It had four smaller tables, and one larger table. Keith had crammed himself against the corner with his back against the wall of the longest table. Shiro sat next to him debating something with Hunk while Pidge appeared just as anti-social as Keith, puttering around with his computers.

He was starting to nod off when Shiro jammed an elbow into his side so hard it made him gasp. He glared at his friend, but Shiro continued talking with Hunk as though nothing had happened. Keith's gaze fell to Pidge in front of him. He was ignoring Keith, looking intently at his equipment. It was an elaborate setup, monitors, a mini salate dish, and countless wires.

"What are you working on?" Keith's voice was raspy with sleep, and he cleared his throat, taking a sip of his drink, the ice rattling against the glass.

Pidge hushed him as though he were a child who had burst in on him, and not an adult who had asked a question.

"Uh, okay..." Keith didn't know what else to do so he sipped his drink, and listened in on Shiro's conversation.

Keith liked Hunk. Hunk was smart, but in a different way than Keith. Keith could put together things in a realistic, logical sense where-areas Hunk had more of an academic background. He had many great conversations with Hunk, but as the voices around him continued to drone on, Keith found his eyes drooping again.

Pidge sighed, and finally looked up from his equipment. "I'm sorry, Keith. I've been getting some really weird heat signatures from around the area lately."

"What do you mean?" Keith took another sip of his drink, and stifled a yawn.

"Well, I've got some drones circling the area, and these portable heat signatures have been popping up." Pidge turned his laptop so Keith could see the screen where he had pulled up shots of the ground from an arial view. They were black and white, but with glaring white splotches in the photos. "They move around," Pidge continued. "At first I thought it was just a person, but it's too big, and too hot for that. The most recent shots have been closer to your house, Keith. Otherwise, this...whatever it is has been staying pretty far out in the woods."

"Maybe it's an animal?" Hunk said, Pidge's explanation having attracted the attention of both Hunk, and Shiro.

"It's too hot to be a living thing," Pidge said. "I also thought it was just a large fire, but there no heat signatures of people around it, so that can't be right." Pidge sat back in his chair, and crossed his arms. "I think I need to go out, and try to find this thing."

"Let's wait for now," Shiro said as he studied the screen. "It's probably just kids fooling around, but I think we should contact the rangers first. They might know something we don't. Besides, it's dangerous to go wandering through the woods aimlessly at this time of year."

Pidge didn't like that explanation, and pouted. Keith was surprised that he managed to stop himself from sticking his bottom lip out.

"Oh, I have to go," Pidge suddenly said. "I have a lecture early tomorrow morning."

Pidge was a professor, but there weren't any universities around there. He taught his students online so he could live in the town to continue his research, which Keith didn't really understand what that was.

Keith took Pidge's leave to excuse himself for the night too, and many other people followed. The town had an odd etiquitte system where it was considered rude for someone to leave without good reason. Luckily they had Pidge.

They lived in the mountains where it wasn't so much cold as it was snowy, the white stuff piling up on the roads, making them slippery, and making it difficult for Keith to drive his little car down the highway. White flakes were already falling from the sky.

"I'll lead the way," Shiro said. "Do you want me to take you all the way to your house?"

"I'll make it, it's not snowing that hard yet," Keith replied.

Pidge was just making his way out of the bar, having had to round up all his equipment. He had it piled in his arms, and shouted a goodbye to them as he walked down the street towards his house. Hunk also said goodnight, and started up the steep, snow-covered hill towards the small apartment building on the edge of town.

Keith gave his car a quick wipe with his hands, shaking the wet snow from his fingers before getting into his car, and turning the heat on. He waited for a few minutes while Shiro wiped his truck with a proper brush, holding his hands up to the heater even as it continued to blast cold air.

Most of the people who were in the bar lived in the town, and could be seen walking down the middle of the street together, but a few tire tracks already led out of town. Keith followed behind Shiro, taking it slow up the hill. His tires crunched the snow beneath, but he didn't start to slide until he had stop for the stop sign just before the main highway. A string of swears loosed from his mouth as he hit the breaks, and began to slide, inching closer to Shiro's truck in front of him.

"Shit shit shit shit." Keith had not choice but to keep the wheel straight as he pumped his brakes, otherwise he'd end up in the ditch.

His car lurched to a stop just before hitting the back end of Shiro's truck, having hit a dry patch, or maybe just dumb luck. He breathed a sigh of relief. His car was a little shitbox, but Shiro drove a brand new truck. As good a mechanic as Keith was, they'd have no choice, but to get the insurance companies involved.

Shiro stuck his head out of his window, and Keith could hear him shout through his thin windows. "Be careful. The roads will be slippery."

"Yeah, thanks," Keith muttered.

Advancing onto the highway needed to be done with caution. It was the only road that ran all the way through the valley, connecting to other towns both north, and south. While most of the locals would be at home, truck drivers, and sometimes logging trucks still used the road, and there wasn't a safe merging lane either. If a truck was screaming around the corner, they might not see Keith's little car struggling to get across the road.

Shiro went first, and Keith followed immediately behind, easing his foot onto the gas until his tires found traction on the road's surface. Once on the highway, they eased up to speed, which for the area and the current weather was only about 60 kilometers. They were laughing once on the road as his car drove smoothly, the highway well used.

Keith relaxed, and turned on his stereo, pressing play on his iPod. If they ran into an animal on the highway, Shiro would see it first.

He followed Shiro along the highway, nodding his head to the music, feeling more energized now that he was out of the bar, and away from people. Keith clicked his tongue in annoyance when he began to ride Shiro's ass on the curves. Shiro was slowing down extra for him, taking the curves at 10 kilometers less than the posted speed. Who did he think he was? But the weather was too bad for Keith to attempt to pass him on the straightaways, even he wasn't dumb enough to do that. So he resigned himself to his fate, calculated that he would get home much later than he had expected, and shifted to a more comfortable position in his seat.

Shiro's fancy truck would have all the anti-ice whatevers, and Keith took care to leave him some extra breathing room. Despite being a much bigger vehicle, Shiro's truck would stop a hell of a lot faster than his car, and he was glad for the choice because the dull hue of Shiro's taillights suddenly glared red. Keith instinctively held his breath, and eased the break down as fast as he dared. He watched, his heart skipping a beat as Shiro's truck jerked off the highway, and into the ditch. For just a moment, Keith thought he saw something on the highway. It wasn't like any animal he'd ever seen, and he was going to crash right into it. He mentally apologized to the poor creature as he pressed his breaks down harder, and feeling his tires begin to slide. His car wouldn't survive going into such a deep ditch like Shiro's truck.

The flash of blue startled him, and he found himself pressing his breaks all the way to the floor before he could stop himself. His car started to slide, and when he was forced to a halt, he knew it was over. Whatever it was, he had hit it. He opened his eyes to find himself stopped in the middle of the highway. That wasn't safe. He turned the key, but the engine grumbled at him, refusing to start.

"Fuck." Keith flipped on his hazard lights, and checked to make sure no vehicle was coming before getting out of the car.

He ran to Shiro's truck just as his friend was getting out of the driver's side.

"Are you okay?" Shiro asked him, eyes concerned.

"Yeah," Keith said. "You?"

"Fine. I'm sorry, I thought I saw a man on the highway." Shiro was pale as he ran his hand through his hair. "That's why I swerved."

"A man? Something hit my car."

"Oh, no..."

They ran back over to Keith's car, Keith feeling as though his legs couldn't carry him fast enough. His stomach lurched at the thought of seeing the form of a bloodied person crushed beneath his tires, but when they got there, there was nothing. Keith's car was obviously dented, but no traces of what he hit remained. There was no blood on the road, and Shiro let out a breath.

"Thank god," the older man laughed, running a trembling hand through his hair. "An animal then. It must have run off."

"Shiro, look..." Keith pointed at the highway under their feet. The pavement was dry as though it hadn't just been covered in snow. Not only that, but the area around them was dry in a perfect circular pattern as though a clear dome were above their heads.

"No snow." Shiro looked at Keith as though he could provide him with answers, but Keith was gawking right along with him. There was no explanation.

The wind tore through them suddenly as though the weather were angry about their reprieve from the snow. It jerked both of them back to the reality that Keith's car was still in the middle of the highway, and refusing to start at that.

"We need to get your car off the highway," Shiro said, and Keith nodded.

Keith got back into his car, and flipped the stick to neutral. Shiro was at the rear, bracing himself. Keith climbed out, and cranked the wheel before giving a shout back at Shiro. Together they pushed Keith's car to the side of the road as much as they could.

While Keith retrieved his toolbox from his trunk, Shiro jogged back to his truck, and returned with a bunch of large cones.

"Are you ever unprepared?" Keith teased as he watched Shiro set the cones along the highway.

"On these roads, it's a must," Shiro replied.

"Damn..." Keith examined the front of his car before dropping his gaze back to the road. How is it possible that there was no blood? His car looked like a deer had tried to hug it, how is the thing not dead? Maybe it was a bear.

He popped the hood, and moved back to the front. Of course, the hood didn't pop, the damage was too significant for that, and he was having doubts as to whether he could repair it on the highway. Keith grabbed his crowbar from his car just as Shiro was coming back from laying the cones all about. In addition to placing bright emergency cones, Shiro had turned his truck back on to flip on his hazards, hopefully giving whomever would be coming up the highway extra warning even as the snow began to fall all the more.

Keith jammed the crowbar into a space where the hood had crumpled, and put his weight on it. The metal groaned, but didn't give. He bounced, and lowered himself closer to the metal, using his arms. It still didn't give.

"Come on," Keith muttered, accentuating his words with harsh pulls on the bar. "Open. You. Piece. Of. Crap."

With a loud scream of protest, the hood gave, and Keith crumpled to the ground. When he had regained his footing, Shiro was already looking into the guts of his car with a low whistle.

"I don't know," Shiro said doubtfully.

Keith came up beside him, and sighed at the sight of the twisted metal. He was definitely going to need more than his toolbox, he needed his entire shop.

"Leave it," Keith said. "I'll come down tomorrow with the truck, and grab it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm tired, and want to go home. Not like I don't have other cars I can drive."

They left Keith's car after shoving it straight into the ditch. They tried to be gentle, picking the route that sloped the least, but that didn't stop the metal from screaming at it hit the bottom. Keith guessed he should be grateful this happened on a straightaway. At least his car was in a ditch, and not at the bottom of the valley.

Keith grabbed all essential tools out of his car before locking it up, and climbing into Shiro's truck.

 

"You know, you really should live in a place that's more convenient for your customers," Shiro admonished like he had time, and time again.

"Yeah well, people still come here, don't they? Plus I clear the roads in the morning. Thanks for the ride."

He lived above his shop, which was more advanced than it looked. From the outside it looked like a dump, cars, and parts littering the yard, but the snow would cover all that up soon anyway.

He waved back at Shiro, and went inside, sighing as he heard the phone in his shop ringing off the hook. Someone had probably driven into the ditch just the same as him.

"I'm coming," Keith growled, unlocking the door, and striding over to the small, rickety desk. "Hello?"

"Keith! I've been calling you nonstop!" Pidge's excited tone was a little higher than normal. "Did you see that? Did you? I picked up a huge heat reading. It was like a bomb went off! Also, is that your car in the ditch?"

"Pidge, I'm tired." Keith petted the head of the shop kitten as he hopped onto the counter looking for attention. "Can we talk about this later?"

"But it's amazing! -"

"Pidge, seriously. Goodbye."

He hung up, and smiled as the kitten started to purr, closing its red eyes. It was just a tiny black thing he had found wandering his property one day, and he wasn't about to let it starve on its own.

"It's been a weird day, Red." Keith yawned. "Ready for bed?"


	2. Footprints In The Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always develop stories too slowly. Feel free to let me know if anyone feels like it's moving at a snail's pace...I may not change it, but at least I'll know about it. Enjoy!

Keith allowed himself to sleep in. When he woke to a too bright light outside his window, he rolled over, and settled back into the sheets. Not like he had any clients scheduled first thing anyway.

When he woke a second time, Red was on his chest, eyes half closed, and purring as he kneaded his claws into his skin.

"That hurts," Keith complained, but patted his head.

His apartment above the shop was small: just one bedroom, a kitchen, living room, and dining area with a bathroom off to the side. Red followed him from the bedroom into the kitchen, chirping for food. He scooped food into a bowl on the floor from the bag under the sink for the cat, and poured himself a cup of coffee still warm from the coffee maker.

The electric heaters ticked as they clicked on in the too quiet house. Keith shivered, moving back into the bedroom to slip into another sweater. What would he give for a wood-burning fireplace? His electric heating system was okay, but it was common for the power to be out for up to a day due to the snow, effectively freezing him in his own home in the winter.

It was later than he had thought, the sun creeping onto the mountain outside his window. Just because he didn't have any customers lined up, didn't mean that he could slack off. Keith bundled up, putting on layer after layer of clothing more to protect him from being wet than cold. He had to drag his car out of the ditch after all.

He poured another cup of coffee into a travel mug, and headed down the long staircase to the main floor, hearing Red patter after him. The cat sat on the last step, yawning while Keith pulled on his boots.

"I know, buddy," he mumbled, stifling a yawn of his own. "It's pretty early for me too."

The cat made a sound in his throat in response to Keith's voice before he followed him from the foyer of his house, and into the waiting area of his shop. It was just a small, windowed room with his desk, computer, phone, filing cabinet, and a few squishy chairs. Red curled up on one of them as Keith flicked on the lights. He left a note on the door, inviting any customers to make themselves comfortable, writing his whereabouts and when he expected to be back. Only locals used his services, and they knew how much of a shut-in he really was. It was rare that he wasn't at the shop during business hours, and if he were lucky, someone would come to help him.

His tow truck was a monster of a thing because he figured that if he was going to have a truck, he would have a truck, and not some sorry excuse for one. It sat in his driveway covered in snow. He didn't have any logos emblazoned on the side because he didn't need any, and they were too expensive anyway. He'd much rather spend the money buying new equipment for his shop, something that would actually benefit his customers.

Unlike his car, there was a brush inside; a fancy one at that with an extendable handle. He started the truck, the engine rumbling to life, and grabbed the brush. He did his best to get all the snow off, but the truck was big.

When Keith was ready to pull out, he pushed his foot down on the gas, feeling the tires crunch into the snow without the usual hesitation of his car. His truck had all the toys, and gadgets. It wouldn't slide no matter how bad the roads.

It was a clear day as Keith drove down the side road leading from his house. The pavement was completely covered in snow, and he stopped the lower the plow on the front of the truck, listening to the hydraulic mechanisms. There was a jerk as the front of the plow fell to the ground completely, and he continued on at a much slower pace.

When he reached the end of the long side road, he stopped, throwing the truck into park. Keith got out, moving to the front to flip the snaps attached to the plow. He pulled the chain free of the truck, and heaved the plow free. He moved slow as he carried the shovel part of the plow to set it on the side of the road. Not like anyone would come along to steal it.

He got back in his truck, and pulled onto the highway.

 

His car was easy to see, and Keith pulled into someone's driveway so he could turn around. The yellow lights on top of his truck flashed while Keith got out so he could survey the damage.

The ditch wasn't all that deep, but he would have to back into it, and pull his car out. He wondered whether he should put his tire chains on. It was just snow.

The clear spot was no longer there, having been covered once again by the snow through the night. Had he, and Shiro just been seeing things? The cause of the accident, the perfect ring of snow. Keith was starting to convince himself that it was just the late night, the storm, and the drinks they had consumed earlier.

He was known around town. He was the best there was, and had the most competitive pricing because everything was paid off: his mortgage, his tools, his shop. So his expenses were minimal. He wasn't there to gouge people, and he didn't want to become rich. He just wanted to live a peaceful life so when people saw his truck, they slowed down, and waved.

It took a while, and Keith slipped on the snow while he struggled to hook his car up to his truck. Eventually though it was done, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he got back into his truck. The engine revved as he hauled his car out of the ditch, and was on his way back to his shop.

He stopped to hook his plow back up, and lowered it to clear the other side of the street, noting the second set of tire tracks that overlapped his. Someone was at the shop.

He managed to stop himself from groaning as he recognized Pidge's car in his driveway, could see the back of his blonde head sitting in his waiting room.

"What do you need, Pidge?" Keith asked after he had made his way inside without unhooking his car from the truck. "Your car was fine when you brought it in last month."

Pidge didn't even look up from his laptop. "I need an oil change."

Keith sighed. "Unless you've managed to drive 5,000 kilometers in only a month, you don't need one." But when Pidge held up a wad of cash, he couldn't argue.

He took the keys to Pidge's car before stepping through the door from the waiting room that led into the shop. The smell of grease assaulted his nose as he walked over to the bay door. His shop was small, having only two hoists, and one door. He wanted to save enough money to add two, or three more hoists. At that point he would be able to take on staff members too, but for now it was just him, not that he was complaining.

He used his weight to hoist the bay door up, able to just tug the chain without strain once it got rolling on its wheels. He left it open to drive Pidge's car into the first bay, moving to close it once he had turned the car off, leaving the keys in the ignition, and the driver's side window open.

Pidge had settled himself on a stool in his shop with his laptop. Keith normally didn't mind people sitting in his shop if it wasn't busy as long as they stayed out of his way, a policy he was seriously reconsidering.

Keith didn't have a separate room for staff, just a row of lockers against the far wall. He retrieved his work clothes, pulling it on over his regular clothes while Pidge started talking. He only half-listened while he zipped up the grease-stained clothes, and moved back to the car. Pidge was going on about heat signatures again while Keith got down on his knees to position the arms of the hoist under the car.

He worked quickly, wanting Pidge out of there as soon as possible until the other man would be ignored no more.

"Keith? Are you listening?" Pidge demanded.

"No, I'm not," Keith said. "You really need to find someone else to talk to about your research, Pidge. You can't just keep throwing money at me to hang out in my shop."

"Look, I came by to tell you that this thing – whatever it is – has been getting closer, and closer to your house. In some cases its shape has drastically changed for no apparent reason. I think you should stay somewhere else until we know what it is."

"I think you're overracting." Keith grunted while he wriggled his hands into the guts of the car to twist off the oil filter.

"No, you don't understand. I've done some research, and nothing like this has ever been found before. It's dangerous."

"It's probably just an animal like we said last night."

Pidge made a barely-concealed irritated sound. "It's too big, and too hot to be a living thing, I told you!"

Keith shot him a glare over his shoulder. "Don't yell at me in my own shop," Keith growled. "I get that you're concerned, but I'm the only mechanic in town. I can't afford to have my business go under just because of some hunch."

They glared at each other for a long moment, Keith still bent over Pidge's car. Pidge was the one who relented first with a sigh.

"Fine," he said. "But promise you'll call if anything weird happens, okay? You're far from any of your neighbours, and you live alone."

"Thanks for worrying, but I'm a grown man."

A tint of colour rose in Pidge's cheeks as he turned back to his laptop. "I know that."

They both worked on in silence for a few minutes, Keith on the car, and Pidge on his laptop. When the silence began to grate on his nerves, Keith moved to turn on the radio on top of his toolbox, keeping the volume lower than he would normally have it in consideration of his guest.

He was done a few minutes later, dropping the hood shut, and wiping his fingerprints off it.

"Want me to back it out for you?" Keith said, wiping his hands on a rag he kept in his pocket.

"That would be great." Pidge's voice was soft, completely absorbed in his computer.

"You're going to leave right after, right? I've got work to do."

"Yes."

Keith dug out a sheet of plastic he kept in a bag beside his toolbox. He laid it over the driver's seat of Pidge's car before backing the vehicle back out onto the driveway. Keith stepped out onto the snow, making sure to take the keys, and the plastic with him as he walked back in the shop. He handed the keys back to Pidge, and waved him goodbye, promising to answer his phone if Pidge were to call.

Finally, he was alone.

Red was sitting upright on his desk, chirping at him again. He was probably hungry, and Keith's empty stomach was growling too. He let Red into the house before starting the process of moving his car into the shop.

And what a process it was. He had to back the truck with the car into a bay. He preferred not to work with his back to the rest of the shop, but it couldn't be helped without the car being able to start.

Once he got it up on the hoist, Keith examined the undercarriage. He wasn't sure if it was even worth saving, but if he were to get rid of it, he should at least salvage parts from it. The damage looked to be mostly external, not like he had hit a tree, or anything, but there was no real way to tell how much the parts inside were rattled around. It was possible that even after he fixed it up it wouldn't last long on the road again. If anything else, he still had his truck, and it wasn't as though he needed to travel for work.

Keith began to feel dizzy, swaying on his feet. Coffee was not an acceptable source of nutrition. He needed to eat.

Red was giving him an 'I told you so' type of look when he came up the stairs.

"I know," Keith smiled at the imaginary scolding as he dug around in his fridge. He didn't keep much in the house, but managed to throw a couple eggs into a frying pan. Something quick with lots of protein to keep him going.

He was dishing up his food when he heard the main door of the shop being opened through a bell wired through the house. Keith grabbed his plate, a fork, and went back downstairs.

Shiro was waiting for him in the lobby when he entered, shoving a forkful of egg into his mouth.

"Sorry Shiro," Keith said. "I just fixed myself something to eat. You want anything?"

"It's okay, thanks. I came by to see if you could look over my truck after the tumble in the ditch yesterday. It's just still new, and I'll pay you of course."

Keith shook his head. "For you, no charge. Want me to bring it in?"

"I'll do it. Just open the door for me, but eat before you start."

"Deal."

Keith was still eating by the time he got Shiro's truck on the second hoist in the shop. He stood under it, looking up with a fork in his mouth. The outside hadn't looked damaged, and the tires weren't out of line. Maybe he should do a quick alignment just to make sure.

Keith set his empty dish down on top of his toolbox, but paused before he picked up any tools.

"Everything looks good," he said to Shiro who stood to the side. "I'd do an alignment just in case, but you might want to make your dealership do that. I can make it so that it doesn't look like I've touched it, but you know how picky they can be."

Shiro nodded, looking up at his truck. "Maybe I should..."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. Not like a tire's gonna pop off, or anything. Still, might be good to bring it to them within the next couple weeks. You're still making payments on this thing, I'd hate for anything to happen."

"Sure, thanks Keith."

"How was work? Did it drive well on the highway?"

"Yeah, it seems to anyway, and work is work. I see you picked up your car. What are you going to do with it?"

"Dunno. Not sure if it's worth fixing, or not. The frame is okay so it might be fine, but these things can be tricky. Either way, looks like I have something new to tinker with."

Shiro laughed. "That's true."

"Pidge was here earlier."

"Oh? What did he say?"

"He rattled on about heat readings again. He said I should find someplace else to stay until we knew what they were, but I can't just leave my business. I keep thinking that maybe we didn't see anything at all, but we both saw it, didn't we? The snow was melted in a perfect circle, and so suddenly."

Shiro's expression turned serious, and he stared at the floor for a long moment. "I don't know either," Shiro finally said. "But I wouldn't worry too much. If you like we can contact the Sheriff, and have them keep an eye on your place."

Keith shook his head. "It's fine, I can't bother them. Pidge has been wrong before."

"That's true. I'm going to head home then. I have stuff to do. Let me know if you ever want money for that work."

"It's fine, and I didn't do any work."

 

The thing about living outside of town was that it got dark, really dark. The sun set behind the mountain early, and sky began to darken soon after. Keith had been long working away in his shop by the time he noticed the blackness outside. He turned on his outside lights that would serve as a welcoming beacon to any customers trying to reach him.

It had been a slow day. Other than Pidge, and Shiro no one had come to the shop, and no one had called for a tow. Keith wasn't worried though. It was winter and winter meant a lot of car accidents, and broken down vehicles. He would have more business than he knew what to do with soon.

Red had a voice on him. Even in the shop, Keith could hear him yowling, and scratching at the door.

"Alright, I'm coming you big dummy," Keith said as he moved through the waiting area to open the door to admit the poor creature.

The cat was never allowed in the shop. There were too many fluids, and other dangerous things. If Red decided to lick up a bit of anti-freeze, or something he'd be dead. Keith did on occasion let him outside, hoping that he didn't get eaten by a bird, but the cat rarely had an interest of being anywhere, but someplace warm. So it was odd when he ran straight through the waiting area to meow at the door outside.

Keith arched an eyebrow at the animal. "You're not going to want to go out there, it's cold."

Red was insistent, turning back to the door, and scratching so Keith opened it for him. He didn't have time to think about what the cat was after because his gaze was fixated on the brilliant blue outside. The colour that was like lightening lit up the dark sky, and Keith gaped at what looked like great wings spreading themselves. It was beautiful, and terrifying, and like the sun, it hurt his eyes. He squinted, rubbing at them, but when he looked again the dark pressed in on him through the open door.

Keith looked down at Red who was rubbing himself against his ankles. The cat wasn't acting strangely. Keith must be imagining things.

He turned in early, drawing the line at hallucinations. If hallucinations were a thing that was happening, he must need sleep...or a doctor.

Keith shook himself, and gathered Red into his arms. He shoved the feeling of unease all the way down to his toes, but his sleep was fitful that night, filled with visions of an angel.

 

Keith stood on his front step the next morning, staring out at the snowy landscape. It hadn't snowed again, but he couldn't shake the vision of blue he'd had the night before. Something made him hesitate, a foreboding feeling, or his own fear perhaps. A doubt that what he had seen wasn't really real, and that maybe he was getting cancer from being around the car fumes all day. He didn't even know if cancer patients hallucinated.

One thing at a time.

Keith forced one foot in front of the other, marching across the yard towards the treeline with an odd determination. He saw the tracks. They were footprints, human footprints except that humans pressed the snow down with their weight. The snow inside each track was...well it wasn't. There was no snow inside the footprints as though it had melted away. It didn't look as though it had been dug out either.

The tracks came from the treeline, and stopped suddenly at about the place Keith had seen the blue light. What the fuck was going on?

"Hi."

Keith nearly literally had a heart attack. In the sticks, on his own property, and away from the road the last thing he expected was to hear the voice of someone else. He gave a yelp, and leaped, tripping over his own feet to fall in the snow.

"Hey, don't be scared. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." The voice was rushing towards him now, hands grasping at his shoulders. Keith flinched away, and scrambled to his feet.

A man stood in front of him wearing a thin shirt, and a pair of jeans. He was holding his hands up, dark eyes widened with concern.

"I'm Lance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	3. Back Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't make Lance to be too much of a crybaby. It makes sense in my mind because of the context of this story, and Lance's background. I hope to make sense of it soon to my audience. Enjoy!

He wasn't wearing enough clothes. What kind of kid wanders about in the woods with no clothes? And Keith found himself inexplicably angry at this fact. The kid was talking, his mouth moving, but Keith wasn't absorbing any of what he was saying.

"Where's your jacket?" Keith interrupted.

The boy blinked, looking down at himself as though he just remembered he had a body. He opened his mouth, but Keith wouldn't allow him to spew any excuses before he was shrugging out of his own coat, having bundled up in far too many layers.

"Put this on," he said, holding his jacket out. "You're stupid for wandering around without being properly dressed, what if a sudden storm had hit? You know there's no cell service out here, right?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." Lance was smiling as he took his jacket, but all Keith could do was glare. How close had he come to having a dead, frozen body on his property? That would be just perfect for his business.

"You're coming back to my place." Keith indicated his house on the other side of the property. "To call someone to come pick you up. This is my property. It's private, and trespassers aren't welcome. If you come around here again, I have no problem reporting it."

Keith stomped off back through the snow, and after a moment he heard Lance follow with hesitant steps.

"What? You a tourist, or something?" Keith glanced back over his shoulder. It wasn't uncommon for tourists who had never seen winter to come to the mountains, but the valley Keith lived in was far from any tourist destination.

"Well...yeah," Lance replied.

Keith clicked his tongue. "Don't just wander around, okay? I know the snow may seem all lovely to you, but it's dangerous, especially around these parts. It can get cold quickly, and when storms blow in, the snow can pile up faster than you think. This area isn't exactly heavily populated either, know what I mean?"

"Sure, thanks."

They trudged on in silence the rest of the way to the house. Keith led the way through the waiting area of the shop, and held the door that led up to his apartment open.

Lance was lagging behind, eyes wide as though he had never seen a house before.

"Hurry up," Keith sighed, and Lance scuttled through the door. "Upstairs."

Lance was twisting his hands in his shirt at the top of the stairs, and Keith pressed his palm against the boy's lower back to urge him further into his place.

"Are your clothes wet?" Keith asked when Lance had sat down on his couch. "You'll get sick if they are. Give them to me, and I'll dry them before you go. I can lend you a spare set. Bathroom's there."

Keith went into his bedroom, opening a drawer in his dresser to find an extra pair of sweats, and a hoodie. He grabbed a pair of heavy socks for good measure, and came back into the living room to Lance without a shirt, and his pants half-way down his knees.

Keith turned his back, holding out the clothes, and waited. Why didn't this kid use the bathroom to change as Keith had directed? Who just strips down in the middle of someone's house? Was it a culture difference? Keith decided not to make an issue of it. Not like it was anything he hadn't seen before.

When Lance took the clothes from his hand, Keith gave him several more moments before he turned back around, the kid was zipping up the borrowed hoodie. He filled out Keith's clothes nicely, and the mechanic looked at him properly now. Lance must have been older than Keith had initially thought him to be, perhaps kid was a mistake. From his build he looked to be closer to Keith's own age, but his eyes were wrong. His eyes were too wide, too innocent to be Keith's age. Not that Keith was an old man, he was still in his twenties for God's sake.

Keith picked up Lance's clothes discarded on the floor, and paused. They weren't wet like he had thought they were dry, and warm as though they had already been run through the dryer. Keith glared.

"You said your clothes were wet," he huffed.

"I didn't! You were offering me clean clothes," Lance retorted, and Keith looked down at his hands again. The clothes _were_ rather dirty.

"Phone's downstairs in the shop. I'll run these through the washer, and dryer for you, so it'll take at least an hour probably." When Lance didn't move from his spot, Keith stared at him. "Go on. I'll be down in a minute."

 

When Keith came down the stairs, and through the door into the waiting area of the shop, Lance held the phone in his hand with tears brimming in his eyes. He saw Keith, and turned away, sniffing.

Keith tried not to sigh, and to keep his voice neutral. "What's wrong?"

Lance was wiping at his face, Keith could see him in the reflection of the darkened shop windows, but he said nothing, waiting.

"I don't have anyone to call." Lance's voice was strained.

"You don't remember their number? Okay, where were you staying? Was it in town?" Keith reached for the phone, intending to take it, and call the only motel in town when Lance jerked away, looking at him fully, face flushed and tear-stained.

"No! You don't understand, I have no one. There's no one." Lance voice had started strong, but faded, becoming weak as his shoulders slumped, and he dissolved into broken sobs.

"It's okay." Keith eased the phone from Lance's grip before he broke it, his knuckles having gone white. He set it down on the receiver, and turned to Lance who stood, sobbing silently.

Keith didn't know what to do. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. This was why he didn't like people, they all had problems.

"How did you get here, then?" Keith wished Lance would sit down. At least in a sitting position he would have some warning if the boy tried to break anything, or had an outburst. When he was standing, anything could happen at any minute.

"I just...walked," Lance sniffed.

"That makes no sense -" Keith stopped himself from arguing when Lance looked up at him. "Okay, fine. Uh, I can drive you into town. There are more people there who can help you. Further south is a bigger city. They have charitable organizations, and stuff."

"I'm tired." Lance was wiping at his face again, his bangs becoming mussed. "Can't I just stay here for a while? I'll work. I'm strong, I'll do whatever you want me to."

"No. Oh, no. That's not an option. You don't want to stay here. It's dirty from the shop."

"S'not dirty. Please." Lance was looking at him through the eye that was not covered by his own hand. Tears were no longer falling, but the wet threatened to spill back over his cheeks at any moment.

"Just one night," Keith growled. "Tomorrow I'm driving you into town, you hear me?"

Lance smiled, and nodded, giving one last sniff.

 

"He just came out of the woods, practically naked."

Keith had needed support so he called Shiro over for a few drinks later that night. Lance had long passed out on the couch after trying to crawl into Keith's bed, and it took some convincing to get him into the living room. There he slept, deeply and unmoving all day. Lance hadn't even stirred when Shiro came up to the apartment, or when they settled into the dining area around the table, mere feet away.

Keith tipped his beer back, his lips wrapped around the neck of the bottle for a long swig. "He says he doesn't have anyone," Keith continued. "And he's been sleeping like this all day so I haven't had a chance to ask him any more questions. Think I should call social services?"

"He's not a child, Keith. He looks to be your age." Shiro's voice was lowered to a whisper, but Keith was no longer able to keep his voice down, the alcohol warming his veins.

"Well, I don't know. He's got that innocent look about him."

Shiro stifled a laugh, glancing at Keith before looking at Lance again. "I know what you mean."

"What do I do, Shiro? I know nothing about this guy, and he seems to know even less."

"Let him sleep. I'm sure in the morning the two of you will figure something out."

Lance stirred when Red hopped onto his chest. The cat looked at him for a moment, his ear twitching before nuzzling against his chin, and curling up.

"You have a bit of a thing for taking in strays," Shiro whispered, covering his mouth so Keith wouldn't hear his laughter. "Maybe you'll decide to keep Lance too."

"Shut up Shiro."

Shiro saw himself out after only one drink. He had to work in the morning after all. Keith didn't know how late it was, but when he got to his feet, the apartment seemed to sway under him. Shit. He'd drank too much. He couldn't even recall how many he'd had. When was the last time he ate? Whatever.

Keith stumbled into the kitchen, keeping one hand out to steady himself as he filled a large glass with water. He downed it all, and filled it full again. His shirt was wet. Dammit, of course it was. He was a drunk idiot, having gotten water all over it. Chiding himself, Keith managed to put the full glass of water down on the counter, and he stripped off his shirt, leaving it on the floor. Disgraceful, such a mess with a guest in the house.

He sighed out loud after he managed the long journey to his bedroom, put his glass down on the nightstand, and fell into bed.

 

Keith woke to the sound of lapping water, and he swung his hand in the direction of the nightstand, trying to shoo Red away from the water glass he'd put there the night before. Instead his hand connected with something bigger that cried out in a distinctly human way.

Keith sat bolt upright so quickly it made his stomach heave threateningly. He swallowed down the bile as Lance rolled over, and cracked his eyes. They had a faint blue hue to them, and then Lance was mumbling a good morning.

What had happened? Keith unconsciously buried a hand in his hair as he tried to remember, but he came was blank. He shivered, and touched his chest. His was shirt was gone. His hand flew to his waist, and his pants were very much still there. He felt relief wash over him as he flopped back down on the bed.

An arm curled around his waist, but Keith slapped it away with a dark glare. "Out," Keith growled. "Get the fuck out of my bed."

"What? Why -"

"We're driving into town in an hour, be ready."

Keith placed a foot on Lance, and shoved the boy clean onto the floor. The action left him weak, and he breathed deep, swallowing over and over. They'd leave as soon as he could get out of bed without throwing up.

 

"Are you okay?" Lance asked when they were in Keith's truck three hours later.

Keith really wasn't. He had the worst hangover he'd had in a long time. He had been so panicked about the addition of Lance in his life that he hadn't kept track of the number of drinks he'd had, or the amount of food he'd eaten, which amounted to none. Such carelessness resulted in pain, but that pain was soon to be over because the pain in his ass sitting in the passenger seat wasn't going to be his problem any more.

"I'm fine," Keith said.

Lance turned back to looking out the window. His eyes were glassy in an expression that wasn't quite boredom, but if Keith focused on it too much he'd throw up for sure. Best to keep his eyes on the road.

The motel in town was small, having only five rooms, but there were always travelers there. Hitchhikers sat outside singing songs, or chatting. Keith pulled into an empty parking space, and yanked the gear shift into park.

"There," Keith said. "There's always people here, typically broke people. They'll help you get into the city for cheap, or free. Once there you can find all sorts of people who will give you a hand to go wherever you'd like."

"Wherever I'd like?" Lance was looking at the people with wide-eyed fascination before turning that look to Keith. "Where would you like to go?"

The question had caught Keith off guard, but he avoided giving a philosophical answer. "Back to my home."

Lance smiled, and Keith felt a flush taint his cheeks that wasn't related to his hangover. He'd wanted to avoid a philosophical answer, but he had a feeling that he'd given Lance exactly what he wanted.

"This place seems cool," Lance said. "Think I'll stay for a while. Drop by, and say hi sometime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	4. Can't Be Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is not my intention for these chapters to continue getting shorter. I do intend the next chapters to be longer, but I just can't stop writing this series. Enjoy!

Keith couldn't take his eyes off Lance. The kid had decided to stay where Keith dropped him off. In no time at all, Lance had gotten a job at the only restaurant in town turned bar in the evenings, and Keith had never seen it more crowded. Young people were now flocking to the place just to see the gigantic flirt that was Lance.

"Keith's jealous that his boyfriend is the talk of the town." Keith heard Hunk tease from across the table.

"He's not my boyfriend," Keith growled, turning to glare.

"Okay, maybe you want him to be. You've been staring at him all night."

A warm hand squeezed his arm, and Keith released the tension he hadn't known he was holding, unclenching his fists.

Lance was different. Keith noticed it as soon as he had run into Lance at the local market a few weeks before. It was in his eyes, they were clouded now. Keith would dare to call his expression guarded because even when Lance smiled, it no longer reached all the way to his eyes.

"I'm going home," Keith mumbled, getting to his feet, and throwing a few rumpled bills onto the table. His friends didn't try to stop him. He'd always had a moody side, but even they had to know something was up with him.

Lance was staring at him, Keith could feel it, and he avoided his gaze as he moved out of the bar. The outside air was cold, stinging his nose, but Keith took a good whiff anyway, allowing the cold to clear his head.

The side of his face still burned where Lance had touched him earlier that night. He had leaned into Keith after he'd ordered his drink with an almost feline smirk on his lips, touching the side of his face with some compliment that allured to his masculinity, and Keith had smacked him away. Keith wasn't some kid. He'd seen people use that tactic before: people who flirted to get something from him. Lance's income relied on tips, and Keith got that, but he didn't need the act either. He just wanted his drink, and to get out.

It had only been a few months since Lance had shown up on his property out of the blue, but already he seemed like a completely different person from the blubbering, half-naked boy he'd first met. He felt like the only one in the world who remembered Lance that way, or maybe Lance had never been like that in the first place.

Now he was acting like a child.

"Hey, Keith!" he started at the sound of his name being shouted at him from someone he didn't recognize. "Can you give us a hand? Our car broke down, and we can't get it started."

The good thing about Lance, the walking tourist attraction, was that he was bringing in all the kids from neighbouring towns who all drove shitty vehicles that always needed to be fixed. Business in Keith's shop was booming, unfortunately that also meant that if he were out, and about, he was often asked to fix vehicles for people. At that moment, he was glad for the distraction.

He got wrapped up in fixing the car. It was just a dead spark plug, but he had to make a trip back to his shop for the part he was lucky enough to have on hand. After it had been fixed, he stayed too long, standing out in the snow, and chatting with the group of young men about the latest toys on wheels that he hadn't noticed the bar clearing out for the night.

"Oh, Keith. You're still here." Pidge walked up to him with his laptop tucked under his arm. "I thought you went home ages ago, but perfect timing anyway. I haven't been picking up those weird heat signatures anymore, but I'm not so sure they're actually gone. It's making me a little nervous actually. Something just appearing, and then disappearing like that isn't right. I'd like to go to your property one of these days, and have a look around if that's alright with you?"

"Fine with me," Keith said.

"Great. I'll call you, and let you know what day, okay?"

Keith had stopped listening because the lights inside the bar went dark, and Lance came out the door walking beside the owner who worked in the kitchen. They were laughing at something as they locked up.

"Keith?" Pidge followed the direction of Keith's gaze to Lance, and sighed. "I'll call you later."

Keith was about to call out to him, but the words died on his tongue as Lance was surrounded by people. They chatted to him, laughing, and were touching him in a way that made Keith feel unwelcome. He didn't know these people, or the relationship Lance had with any of them. Despite it being his town, he didn't fit in.

Lance caught his gaze in between a gap in the crowd of people, and smiled at him. For the first time since he'd met Lance at his house, Keith saw the light reach all the way into his eyes. He returned the smile weakly, and turned on his heel, striding towards his truck faster than he cared to think about.

 

His empty house was a welcome sight. No people, no emotions, and no complexities. Red was snoozing in the waiting room of his shop, curled up on a stack of papers. Keith left the cat alone as he went upstairs to grab a few beers from the fridge. He slid them into a bag that would keep them cool before making his way back downstairs.

He shooed Red away from the door as he entered his shop, ensuring the animal didn't follow him.

"Sorry buddy," he said. "It's too dangerous in here for you."

Keith set the beers on the floor next to his toolbox, cracking one of them before taking a sip.

His small car was up on the hoist. He wasn't even sure what he was doing with it anymore. First he had been salvaging parts from it, but somewhere along the way he'd started putting things back together. Maybe he'd end up fixing it after all.

Keith didn't have any other hobbies. He didn't play video games, watch television, or go on dates. Finding a partner had never interested him. He was happy with his life, so he allowed himself this.

His newest gadget was a pair of wireless headphones that could be worn without fear of strangulation while working. He fit the buds into his ears, and turned on the iPod that was given to him by Hunk. That man knew all his favourite playlists, and he no longer had to listen to the commercials, or talk shows that came through the radio.

The music swelled through him, calming his heartbeat, and Keith found himself smiling. This was all he wanted: a quiet night in his shop, some beers, and good music. He didn't need anything else.

By the time Keith realized he hadn't put his overalls on, or changed out of his 'good' clothes, they were completely covered in grease, and he couldn't help, but laugh at himself. His good clothes, who was he kidding? They were just a mildly cleaner pair of jeans with one too few grease stains. He sat on the stool as he cracked another beer, running his hand through his hair, feeling the dirt on his fingers.

The town knew him well enough, but only as the mechanic. He didn't attend any functions outside whatever Shiro managed to drag him to. He'd moved there right after his apprenticeship, and the reason was stupid: he was sick of seeing everyone around him getting married that he needed to move to a place where no one did that. The town was full of wanderers, and travelers, people who didn't really have a place so they stuck together like insects in a huge world.

Keith pulled the ear-bud, and turned off the music, setting everything down on his toolbox, feeling suddenly lost. The adrenaline of the earlier evening had worn off, leaving a cold spot in his chest. In the silence of his shop, with the hum of the heaters, and other equipment, Keith allowed himself to admit what he'd been hiding from his entire life. He was lonely.

 

A scream outside tore him from his thoughts, and Keith's heart instantly lurched into his mouth. The sound was unmistakably human, and Keith was running before he knew what was happening. He was outside, the cold night air closing in on him.

There were lights in the trees across his property, a blue hue that was strange. When the scream came again, a drawn, pained wail, Keith was running towards it, sprinting across the yard.

The forest was thick, and once he reached the treeline his progress was slowed. The snow hid fallen birches, and other tripping hazards in the black.

He called out, but no one answered him. The lights were brighter now, engulfing the trees, and Keith followed it until he came upon its source. He found himself frozen to the spot because surely what he was seeing couldn't be real.

A man sat in the snow, desperate sobs wracking his throat. The snow had melted all around him, coating the area in steam that reflected the blue light. The image of the light burned into Keith's mind as it took the form of fire that sprouted from between Lance's shoulder blades.

The snow crunched under Keith's foot as he stepped back in preparation to run away, but the sound snapped Lance's attention to him, tear-filled eyes that bore into his skin.

"Keith, don't go!" Lance cried. "It hurts. Help me, please."

A crude trap had its metal teeth dug deep into Lance's ankle. Keith could see red dripping onto the ground.

People were shouting somewhere in the distance, the sound of gunfire, and the barking of dogs. Perhaps they had heard Lance's screams too, thinking it were an animal.

"Hurry," Lance begged. "They can't find me, please."

Keith was afraid. Surely the flames licking along Lance's back would burn him if he got too close. Lance's gaze hardened when Keith didn't move, and he turned his attention back to the trap. He wedged his fingers in between the metal, and pulled. A scream echoed through the trees that made Keith want to cry along with him, and before he could think, Keith was kneeling, pulling apart the metal with all his strength. Lance threw his head back, and howled as the teeth dislodged themselves from his skin. He was sobbing again, but he jerked away when Keith tried to touch the wound.

Lance parted his lips as though he were about to say something, but the gunshot startled them both. There was a flash of blue light, and something rammed into his chest, knocking him onto his back. Pain split his head as his vision darkened. He fought against it, to keep his eyes open, but all he heard was the heavy beat of wings in time to the blood pounding in his ears.

 

Keith was told that his blood alcohol level, and the bump on his head contributed to his hallucinations. He was treated by paramedics in his own home as he gave his statement to the police. Their voices flowed over him, white noise against the howling storm that had blown up outside, and the sound of screaming over the wind that he knew had been real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	5. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to update, sorry about that. I've been working on other projects, and it's been like patient zero at work so a lot of energy has been going into trying not to get sick.
> 
> I kind of picture Pidge to be the type to cross a few moral boundaries when it comes to his research. Enjoy!

“Lance!” Keith banged his fist against the motel room door until it rattled in its frame. It was so early in the morning that he was certain he was waking everyone in the town.

He had called Pidge because Pidge knew everything. The other's voice had been husky and sleep-filled on the other end of the phone, but he relinquished Lance's room number after yanking Keith's chain far longer than he would have liked.

"Lance, open up!" Keith drew his foot back intending to kick the door out of frustration more than anything, but stopped himself. The owner wouldn't take kindly to him making such a racket in the first place, and Keith was sure he'd be extra pissed if he damaged his business.

People were staring, Keith could feel their gazes on him. They drew back the curtains, rubbing their eyes because disturbances didn't happen often in such a small place. Other doors in the motel had opened, and the bleary-eyed stuck their heads out to stare at Keith.

Keith ignored all of them as he raised his fist to hit the door again when it was yanked open, and Lance stood half-naked and yawning.

"What's the big deal?" Lance said, blinking at Keith.

"We have to talk," Keith found himself growling.

"This early?"

"Yes."

There was a drawn-out sigh, and Lance stared at him as though he were deliberating whether Keith were serious.

"Well come in then. Nothing's even open yet," Lance finally said, moving into the motel room.

Keith followed behind, closing the door against the cold.

The town's motel wasn't exactly the most luxurious, but it wasn't a complete shithole. It was simple, clean, and smelled of stale coffee. Lance had little in the way of valuables, just a few clothes that looked like they were purchased used hung up in the closet, and a guitar leaning up against the wall in the corner. The room was equipped with one bed, a sitting chair, and an old tube TV.

Keith took a seat in the chair, his leg bumping up against the guitar, and making the strings twang. He was careful as he righted the instrument, noting the notches and dents in the wood.

"Do you play?" Keith asked, motioning to the guitar when Lance turned with a questioning look.

"Oh, yes. Well, sort of. I just started. Got that for free off some guy came through a few weeks ago. Coffee?" Lance paused where a coffee maker sat on top of a mini fridge that Keith had failed to notice.

Keith nodded. "Please, thank you."

As Lance moved about preparing the coffee, Keith watched him carefully. There was no sign of a limp, or injury, but Keith knew it was Lance he had met in the woods the night before. He couldn't shake the image of the fire in between Lance's shoulder blades.

Keith steeled himself, taking a breath, and straightening his spine. He tried his best to keep the waver from his voice as he asked the oddest question of his life. "What were you doing in the woods last night?"

The laugh that echoed off the motel room walls was hollow. "What are you talking about? I wasn't in the woods last night."

Keith gritted his teeth. He suspected their conversation would turn out this way, and it aggravated him. "Don't lie to me, Lance. I know what I saw."

The coffee maker was making sputtering sounds now as it dripped. Lance didn't answer him, just stared down at the task as though he could make Keith go away if he ignored him long enough.

He had to let it go. What else was he going to do, press Lance for the information? So Keith allowed his gaze to wander, finding himself studying Lance's back. There was no doubt in his mind that Lance was different, that he had changed since the night Keith had first met him wandering about the woods without proper clothing. He did note that even in the shelter of the motel room, where Keith found it a tad too chilly to remove his jacket, that Lance still wore very thin clothing. His entire upper body was completely bare after all, and he seemed to not notice.

"How have you been enjoying the town?" Keith changed the subject, and Lance visibly relaxed. "I hadn't expected you to stay."

Lance shrugged. "Well, it's a nice little place. Interesting people are always coming through. I've been thinking of getting an apartment."

It was in Lance's body language. He was more confident, and it seemed like it was by leaps and bounds. It was this new confidence that had caught Keith off guard at the bar when Lance had leaned in too close. Where had the lost, sputtering kid gone?

Keith started at the repeated sound of his name, and Lance was standing in font of him, holding out a steaming mug. The soothing scent of coffee washed over him as he accepted the drink, trying not to make the flush in his cheeks obvious.

Lance sat himself on the edge of the unmade, clasping his coffee cup in his hands.

The coffee was on the bitter side, but Keith hardly paid attention as he tried to think of a way to get the information he wanted from Lance.

In the end his efforts were fruitless, and he left the motel room not much wiser than when he came. He'd learned little of Lance's background, where he was originally from, and what brought him to town in the first place. Lance looked like an idiot, talking too much to the people in the town, but he was better at hiding things than Keith gave him credit for.

"Next time call ahead, dude." A man mumbled as Keith passed on his way to his truck. He ignored the comment completely, his mind already jumping to what he was going to do next.

 

"Tell me what you know, Pidge."

The other's shoulders were slouched forward as he glared at Keith through his glasses. It had taken much less racket to rouse Pidge from his sleep than it had Lance, but Pidge was definitely much less friendly about it. With the caffeine from the coffee from Lance buzzing through his veins, he found himself grateful to be fully awake. It wasn't beyond Pidge to sly his way out of whatever Keith wanted, and he had no doubt that the smaller man could talk him right out the door if he wanted to.

Pidge threw his head back with a pained moan as he flung open the door, admitting Keith without another word.

Compared to the rest of the town, Pidge's house was lavish. His research always paid well enough for him to live comfortably, and with the latest equipment. For a moment he thought he had lost Pidge as he finished removing his shoes, and wasn't able to find a trace of him, but he was called into the kitchen.

Noises that didn't sound unlike complaining were falling from the back of Pidge's throat as he slouched around the large kitchen making coffee. He spoke too quietly for Keith to actually hear him, and he stopped once Keith had taken a seat at the breakfast bar, but he had no doubt that Pidge was cursing his name.

"Coffee?" Seemed to be all the words Pidge could manage as he held up the empty coffee pot in his hand.

"No, thank you. I already had a cup. I need to know what you know about the heat readings," Keith said.

"Just give me a minute, Jesus. You wake me up, and come into my home with such a demanding attitude." Pidge filled up the coffee pot with water from the sink, poured it into the maker, and pressed a button.

A laptop was open on the corner of the breakfast bar, and Pidge sat down in the seat next to Keith, reaching to drag it to him. He was mumbling again, running his hands over his face, and blinking several times as he tried to focus on the computer screen in front of him.

"Are you alright?" Keith asked as he watched this process.

"No." There was a bitterness there. "I stayed up much too late last night, and wasn't expecting you to come knocking at my door at butt-crack o'clock. Okay...what is it you want to know?"

"First, I need to know if it was you who put traps in my property."

Was that the hint of a smile? "Technically, they're not on your property, and I got your permission in the end. I just spoke to you after the fact is all."

"No," Keith's tone was firm as though he were scolding a small child. "I said you could look around, not endanger anyone including myself if I had dared to take a walk."

"Pfft. We both know that's a lie. You're a shut-in who plays with your toys like me and my toys. There was no way you would have taken a walk."

"Either way," Keith pressed on. "I need them gone. Now."

"Fine."

"Next, I...need to know what you found last night. There were people and dogs, and I don't believe that you know nothing."

The coffee maker dinged, and Pidge was off the stool and around the counter faster than Keith had ever seen him move. He didn't answer Keith's request as he creamed, and sugared his coffee to his content, preferring it quite a bit sweeter than Keith did.

"Well, I don't know much," Pidge said after he took the first sip of coffee, bringing it back with him as he sat down. "Something shorted out the cameras before I could get anything through the feed. If I could physically get them, then I might be able to drag something more from them."

"You put cameras around my property too?"

"Only a few."

"Pidge," Keith could feel his temper growing, his voice lowering, and he struggled to push it aside.

"Fine, fine." Pidge waved his hand. "I'll make sure everything is gone, but if I pull out all my equipment then I won't get as accurate information."

"I'm sure I'll live."

"Whatever you say."

Keith felt exhausted all of a sudden, and he regretted his decision to refuse Pidge on his offer of coffee. He still had so many questions, and no answers in sight.

"It's pretty messy," Pidge said, staring at his laptop. "I haven't cleaned anything up yet, but this is what I've got."

Pidge turned the computer so Keith could see the screen, which displayed a prerecorded video. It was in black and white, and was fuzzy as though something were interfering with the feed. Knowing the area it could have been the cold, and snow all the same.

There was a figure in the snow. It was distinctly human-shaped, man-shaped to be specific. Keith recognized the area from the night before, and knew he was looking at a feed of Lance. If he hadn't been there, seen everything in person it would be nearly impossible to tell who it was because there was an impossibly bright light behind him that blotted out much of the scenery. Lance looked startled at something before the light consumed the feed entirely, and the connection was lost.

"It's very strange," Pidge mused. "When I gather my equipment from your property I will have to take a look around there."

Keith said nothing. The feed confirmed that what he had seen the night before was real. He felt the beginnings of a headache pound in his temples.

"No more shit in my yard, okay?" Keith said. "Especially not anything that could seriously harm someone, what are you crazy?"

"Of course not. Nothing I put there could hard a person."

"Really?"

Pidge winced. "Okay, fine. So the people I hired set things up to trap an animal. It's not my fault."

"No more, or I'll be back, you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Good."

 

Keith was tired when he had arrived back home. The night had been long, and the day would be longer unless he got some rest. He scooped Red up in his arms when he came upstairs, and headed towards the bedroom. The air in his apartment felt cold, too cold, but he was too tired to check. If the power had gone out, it would switch on soon enough, and he lie down on top of the blankets on the bed.

 

Lance whimpered as he slid down to the floor with his back against the door. He allowed himself to relax, panting through the pain as his leg throbbed.

What kind of person set out those kinds of traps? But Lance couldn't blame them really. They were likely looking for an animal. That was troublesome. He rolled the leg of his pants up, and resisted the urge to touch the dressing, having bound his ankle crudely. He had stopped bleeding through them, that was good. If he wanted to recover quickly, it would need air.

Damnit he was too hot. The air in the motel room felt sticky, but he forced himself back to the bed anyway. For the first time since he arrived he felt trapped, the room too small.

Lance hissed through the pain, biting down on his lip so he didn't cry out. His ankle was nothing compared to the wound at his hip from the bullet.

Calm down. Calm down, and breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	6. Hauntingly Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought of the ending to this part. I wasn't going to leave it like that, but I really wanted that moment to be solely Keith's. Enjoy!

By morning the wounds were beginning to heal over. Lance brushed his fingers against his hip, and winced. Only a thin layer of skin held the gap closed. He tested it, pressing carefully, and feeling the tissue give. If he weren't careful it would tear wide open. Lance walked about the motel room. The pain in his ankle was virtually gone, and if he favoured his hip, the bullet wound didn't give him too much trouble.

The scent of blood in the motel room made him want to retch. He needed to get out, to walk in wide open space, and breathe clean air, but the clock was ticking, his shift coming up.

The bar needed him at night. He was the only reason people came there because everyone knew the food was shit, but the drinks were cheap, and the service even better. Lance knew he would be awkward before he even applied for any work so he spent the first few days people watching. He saw how people interacted with each other, what made them happy, what made them sad, and what made them angry. Most of all, Lance had learned the best way to get what he wanted from them. After he had learned the basics, he put it to the test. Flirting had got him many things since then, including a job, and enough tip money to afford his own room.

Lance gasped, and stumbled as his hip throbbed. He sat down on the edge of the bed, panting again. When that became too much, he lie down fully, and closed his eyes.

He could do with more rest. Keith had nearly kicked down his door that morning. Lance had been startled out of a sound sleep, jerking upright so fast that it nearly made him cry out as it strained his wounds. That guy was sharper than he looked, and something in his eyes made Lance nervous. He was cold, and calculating, but there was something else too. Lance had seen it in the forest, a sense of wonder and great fear too. Of course he had been afraid, but he had still helped Lance.

When Lance tried flirting with him when he came into the bar, Keith's eyes had widened in surprise. He had leaned back, pressing into Shiro, and had smacked him away in the end. That had never happened to Lance before, and it puzzled him, especially when Keith couldn't take his eyes off him like all the rest.

His alarm pulled him slowly from a sleep he hadn't known he had fallen into. Lance shifted on the bed, carefully sitting up. He was back in front of the mirror again, examining his hip, poking with his fingers. The skin was thicker now, it would still tear if it were strained, but he would be nearly recovered by the next morning. He just needed to get through his shift.

He dressed carefully, pulling his arms through his sleeves. People dressed warm when there was snow on the ground. After his experience with Keith, Lance had never made that mistake again. Even for just running across the street, Lance at least put his jacket on.

He locked up his motel room, and breathed deep, glad for the fresh air. It didn't smell of blood anymore, and Lance wondered if he should stay anywhere else, but his room that night. Maybe he could find someone to shack up with, but that would ruin his evening plans. So suffering with the smelly room was a must, he supposed.

There were always people hanging out around the motel. The front of the motel, and the general store were the favourite places for travelers to gather. According to the locals, the beach was another favourite in the summer.

People waved at him, and called his name as he passed. Lance was careful how much pep he put in his step. He didn't want to allude to his injury, but he couldn't risk it tearing open either. It was amazing how quickly he had become an established figure in town, despite not even owning an apartment himself. The people had wasted no time at all welcoming him into their lives.

The owner had a short man who held a little too much pudge in the front. Hunk complained about the food relentlessly, always claiming that he could do a better job, but the owner couldn't afford to hire anyone else. He hadn't been able to afford Lance either, but he'd been convinced to take Lance on. It didn't matter if it was Lance who had done all the convincing. In the end the move to hire Lance had nearly doubled the business of the small resturant.

The only reason that the resturant was successful in the first place was because it was the only one in the town. The only restaurant-like thing in the town was the local bakery, but it was only open during the day, specializing in breakfast. It closed late afternoon.

During the day, the owner ran the resturant, opening up for lunch, and staying open into the evening with Lance coming in to help with the bar portion. Lance had researched a lot of drinks being sold in the cities, begged the owner for certain supplies, and upped the drink menu, which only used to serve beer in bottles and cans. It had taken some convincing for the locals to try it, but now they were hooked on the new menu, and they were getting tourists from other towns all the time so it didn't matter anyway.

The resturant already had a few patrons when Lance walked in. It was early evening, just in time for a late dinner. Behind the bar was his apron that held his notebook, pens, and tip money. He was tying it about his waist as he stuck his head into the kitchen, calling out to the owner. There was a gruff reply, and the owner dipped his head so he could look Lance in the eye. Lance's instructions were simple: just do his job, keep the tables clean, and don't fuck up. Not that he had yet anyway.

It would be a little too early for people to order drinks for the most part so Lance made his rounds. He nodded at the patrons, flashing them a smile without disturbing their conversation. All the unoccupied tables were filthy with dishes, and bits of food all over them. Lance cleared them quickly, pausing with dishes balanced on his hands while the locals waved him over to chat with him. Behind the bar was just as disgusting, and Lance kept the irritated sigh to himself as he set to work ensuring it was spotless. He refused to make any drink for any customer with a mess. The restaurant was certainly cleaner since Lance had started.

By eight o'clock the men rolled in. They had finished up their work for the day, and were always clean. Likely they went home first to eat, and shower because they never ordered food. They sat themselves as was the custom, and Lance was there ready to take their drink orders. This group liked to take their time, chatting Lance up, and Lance dished out just as much as he got. He allowed one of them a quick grope, the man's hand squeezing his rear before he twirled away with a sly comment on his lips, and a smirk. These men weren't to be swayed by the new drink menu, no matter how hard Lance had tried, they stuck to their cheap beer, but they tipped well, and beer was easy to serve.

Lance was popping the caps off the beer bottles behind the bar when the tourists walked in. Unlike the gruff men with beards, these men were much thinner, used to walking long distances. They were hippies, but they weren't the kind of tourists Lance was waiting for. These people would have little money, ordering just enough so that Lance couldn't kick them from the restaurant. They rarely drank, typically ordering a dish, or two to share in between all of them. Tonight there were only four, and they occupied a small table in the corner, which Lance was grateful for. Once these types had come in in a hoard, nearly taking over the entire restaurant, but they rarely tipped. Lance had barely been able to pay for his motel room that day.

At around ten o'clock, the door opened to admit a surge of noise that made the corners of Lance's mouth turn up. There they were. These men were young, loud, and they had money to burn. They came from the surrounding cities in their shitbox cars with cash burning holes in their pockets. Lance's bar was perfect for them because it was cheaper than the cities if they were aiming to get wasted. There was a huge group of them that Lance couldn't seat them all, not that they seemed to care. The amount of noise they produced would scare off the locals soon enough.

The young men sat where they could. The ones who couldn't sit stood, and Lance gave them his best smile as he approached.

"Hey, you're right," one of them exclaimed, stepping forward, and taking Lance's hand, giving him a quick spin. "He is pretty cute."

"I told you," another said. Lance recognized him right away. At first the presence of this man had made him flush, remembering how he'd taken Lance to his motel room, but that was long passed. Lance had learned so much since then.

 

By the end of his shift Lance was beginning to visibly limp, unable to hide it anymore. His hip was twinging now, and he could feel the thin layer of sweat on his brow. He stood behind the bar to try, and regain his composure, but he knew he was panting.

"You look like you've had a rough night." Lance tried to smile at the young man, but he was afraid it came out as a grimace. "You haven't been taking anyone else back to your room, have you?"

The tone was meant to be teasing, playful, but Lance could hear something deeper, almost a hint of a threat.

Lance brushed him off with a teasing comment because his instincts were screaming. He had to get out. He needed open air.

The comments weren't lost on the owner to came out to stand next to Lance, offering him silent support until the young man went back to his table with a huff.

"Don't let them harass you, Lance," the owner said, but paused at seeing his face. "Are you sick, or something? Do you need to leave early?"

Lance nodded. His knees were threatening to give out, and he just wanted to collapse behind the bar. He'd pushed himself a little too hard, but his tip-haul was a good one.

He cleaned up under the watchful eye of the owner, and wasn't bothered by any of the young men. He strode across the street quickly, and managed to get into his room without anyone seeing him.

The scent of blood was nearly overpowering, but he would leave soon anyway. He toyed with how far he should go. The forest around Keith's house was no longer safe, he'd have to go out further, much further. Where no one would see.

 ----------

Keith never wandered far from his house, but he wanted some peace and quiet. Lance was everywhere and everyone was talking about him. Keith couldn't take it anymore. He had so many questions that he craved the answers for, and they weren't coming to him. Keith was beginning to question his own sanity, but Pidge's proof made it impossible for him to simply dismiss all the events that had happened as a bad dream.

Every kid that came into his shop went on, and on about Lance so much that Keith had banned anyone and everyone from being in the shop itself. Now he forced customers to wait in the waiting area. He tried to be grateful because his cash flow had increased exponentially, but he was going to lose his mind.

So he had packed up his gear, put down extra food for Red, and left.

The forest behind his house was expansive, stretching on seemingly forever. In the summer his favourite camping spot was only a few hours hike, but with the snow on the ground it would take much longer. Not that Keith was complaining, he needed to get himself together. It was the weekend, his shop was closed, and he had at least two solid days where he could afford to be away. Even if it were slightly ridiculous that he was running into the forest in an effort to flee from people.

The hike wasn't particularly grueling. Once he had reached the edge of his property, he had to scramble up a steep hill. His boots slid on the ground, and he used the trees within reach to hoist himself up. The hill was the only shitty part, and once he had reached the top, panting and sweating buckets, the rest of the journey was over flat land. There was a path, but it wasn't cleared, covered in snow that reached all the way up to his knees in some spots. Keith resigned himself to the long journey, and used the time to think.

He had marked the way with red ties around the trees. Even without a path all he needed to do was follow them.

It got dark early, the black all-consuming, and threatening to swallow him up. Keith was close, and considered pushing it to see if he could make it to his camping spot before he couldn't see anything anymore, but that wasn't a wise idea. In the dead of winter bears weren't much of a threat, but that didn't mean that there wasn't other wildlife sharing the woods with him. So he resigned himself, and slid his pack off his back to dig out his headlamp.

Twenty minutes later, and he stumbled into the small clearing. He had the brains enough to tie red ties in a crude circle about the trees around the clearing. Somewhere in the middle would be a circle of stones, and he could see his firewood pile, a swollen mass of snow straight ahead.

Keith took out a small shovel, expanded the handle, and set to work clearing the area. He dug a straight path to the firewood, and brushed the snow off with his hand. He had secured a tarp over the pile to keep it dry, and was glad to find that it had worked. Only the pieces around the edge were wet, but they would burn well enough with a hot enough fire. Next, Keith found the fire pit, just a circle of stones, and finally Keith cleared the rest of the site including enough room for his pack, a sitting area, a place to sleep, and to move around.

When that was done, he set to work starting a fire, which proved to be a little challenging. The firewood might have been dry, but the fire pit was not. Either way after exchanging a few swears with the wind, Keith managed to get it lit, and built it up until it was burning brightly. He warmed his hands gratefully before moving to prepare his dinner.

The land he was on wasn't his. It was crown land, which was one of the reasons he'd bought his property. Backing onto crown land owned by the government ensured that no one would ever live, or build in these woods. It was so far out that people rarely traversed there too so Keith often considered it to be just an extension of his own backyard.

When the work of setting up was done, Keith sat on top of his sleeping bag. He had tied a tarp he'd brought with him to a few nearby trees with rope, making a small shelter in which he placed his sleeping bag. Since the ground had been covered with snow, and was wet, a waterproof layer was put in between Keith's bag and the ground. That way he wouldn't be soaked. He was close enough to the fire that he was able to feel its heat, and it would keep him warm for much of the night. Although his sleep would be restless. If he wanted to continue having a fire he'd have to wake often to put fuel on it.

The forest was always quiet in winter. Everything Keith did seemed unnaturally loud. When he had taken to splitting firewood with the small hatchet he brought with him, it was as though lightening were cracking through the trees. Even the popping of the fire cut through the silence.

Pidge hadn't found anything. There was no visual evidence of what Keith had seen, and it tugged at something inside him. Lance hadn't given up any information, and it had taken everything for Keith not to virtually stalk the boy. Surely he would wind up in a hospital, or jail. He didn't know what he should do, but he was beginning to think that the universe had many wonders, and be done with it was best. There were many things in the world he couldn't explain, but he didn't want to deny himself either. What had happened was real. He needed to accept it, accept that he wasn't going to find the answers, and move on. It wasn't his business.

Keith was satisfied with himself, even if it had taken him wandering to the middle of nowhere to find it.

He was reading, tilting his book towards the firelight, and straining to to read the words. His headlamp was too bright for his liking, but he was going to damage his eyes at this rate. He didn't bring any alcohol with him so when the blue light streaked through the trees, Keith knew he wasn't seeing things.

The light was expansive, like a sunrise that blotted out the streaks of stars in the sky, and Keith couldn't ignore it.

He put his book down, and picked up his headlamp before following the light through the trees. This time it was more gentle then when he had seen it in the forest near his property. The last time it had looked like lightening streaking across the sky, but now it were as though it was filled with warmth. There was something oddly meloncholoy about it.

Keith kept his headlamp off, and picked his way through the trees carefully. It was slow going, the ground unfamiliar, and the trees black around him. With each step he took, the light brightened until he broke upon a sight unlike which he'd ever seen before.

Lance was hauntingly beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	7. Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most dramatic pile of crap I've ever written. Seriously, what even?
> 
> I would like to thank those who have taken the time to comment. You give me so much life, and motivation to continue this series. I will literally sit there, and refresh for some time after posted just so I can wait for a comment. I love reading everyone's reactions, which is sometimes unexpected. 
> 
> **NOTE: There might be some dubious consent issues in this chapter. I didn't tag it, but if anyone feels like that tag should be there, please let me know.** Enjoy!

He didn't notice the tears at first. Keith's gaze hovered over Lance's body, taking in the sight with an almost passive air. The wings weren't a figment of his imagination because there they were: protruding from in between Lance's shoulder blades. For lack of a better term the wings were covered in feathers, but they weren't like that of a normal bird. They were thin and sharp, looking as though they could cut through skin, and were bathed in a blue light that tugged at something inside his chest.

The sobs reached his ears first, a quiet hitching of the breath that jerked him from his stupor. Lance was crying where he stood, his face tilted upwards as though in an attempt to ignore the tears that shone on his cheeks, and Keith couldn't help, but step forward.

The snow crunched underfoot, making Lance turn to look at him. His eyes held the same dull hue that reflected his tears. Feathers stretched up the back of his neck, and crept along his face. Keith took another step forward.

"Stop," Lance whispered, a pained expression overcoming his features as though Keith had physically struck him. "Please, just stop. Don't come any closer."

Lance sniffed, a sound that was oddly human as he wiped his face with his sleeve. His clothes looked as though he had torn them with his own hands, the back of his hoodie torn in a wide strip to allow room of the wings that Keith had a nearly uncontrollable urge to touch. His pants were unbuttoned, hitched low about his hips where a long tail extended from the base of his spine. Like his wings, it was pulled close to Lance's body as though to shield him.

"Fuck," Lance chuckled, a dry sound. "This is so messed up. Why are you here?"

When Keith didn't answer Lance clicked his tongue.

"Figures," Lance mumbled, and Keith got the impression he was speaking to himself now. "I should have known you'd show up at a time like this. I go out of my way to get away from humans, but it seems like you have infected every corner of this planet." Lance sighed, running a hand over his face. "I don't mean that. Shit, I don't know anymore – ow!"

Lance doubled over, clutching at his hip, and Keith instinctively moved forward. He didn't have time to process what was happening until a wave of something hot hit him straight on, and he was knocked through the air. Keith cried out as he collided against something sturdy, forcing the air out of his lungs, and jarring his head. Dizzy, his head pulsing, Keith slumped against the base of the tree, panting through the pain.

"Damnit." There were two Lance's as he approached, kneeling in front of Keith, and leaning forward much too close. He felt Lance's hand on his face, a gentle brush of the fingertips that spread warmth where they touched him, drawing an unconscious moan from Keith's lips.

"I'm sorry," Lance said, and suddenly his vision was clear, the pain gone. "I didn't mean to do that."

Lance stood up before Keith could reach out to him. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

"I'll come back for you," Lance said. "Can't just leave you having seen me now can we?"

Lance's wingspan was massive, and he braced himself for a moment before taking off, gliding up through the narrow space in between the trees.

Keith was dumbfounded, and he sat for a long time not believing his eyes. The darkness closed in about him again, and a rustle in the trees jerked him to his feet. Sitting alone in a dark forest without his satellite phone, or any equipment was dangerous.

He turned on his light, and followed his footprints in the snow back to his campsite.

His mind seemed jammed, the cogs had stopped working. He couldn't think, he could barely breathe, the air getting caught in his throat, and he stumbled.

Get a hold of yourself.

The fire was dying, the embers giving off a faint glow. Keith threw more wood on, kneeling to blow on the fire, and give it life. When it was crackling once again, Keith sat back down on his sleeping bag, staring into the flames that seemed so alive.

His cheek burned where Lance had touched him, and he ran his own hand over his face.

Without knowing what else to do with himself, Keith picked up his book again.

 

He had thought about leaving. It wouldn't take much to pack his bags, and go home early. Then he could have another day to lounge around the comfort of his house so he wouldn't have to freeze in the snow, but something kept him rooted. When he knew that something was Lance, he felt anger bubble up in his chest. He was pining after a fantasy, and he hoped to get, what? He didn't know, but the memory of the touch on his cheek sent tingles down his spine.

Keith was acting like a teenage girl.

Furious with himself, he wriggled out of his sleeping bag, shivering in the crisp morning air. Keith stretched, hearing his spine pop, and groaning as the stiffness eased from his back. Then he busied himself with anything and everything.

The day was dreary with clouds hanging in the sky. Clouds made the air warmer, but increased the likelihood that it would snow. If it snowed a lot, it would be bad for him. His tarp would keep some of the snow off him, but it wasn't a tent. If the wind picked up he'd be spending his time huddling around the fire until dawn where he could get the fuck outta there.

He split firewood until the palms of his hands burned, and showed the telltale signs of blistering. If he had thought to bring his small chainsaw, he could have gathered even more firewood, but that was back at the house. He cleared the rest of the snow from the site, and built the fire up high. He napped, read, and ate until the sun finally sank below the horizon. Keith was back beside the fire again, trying to read the rest of his book when he flushed a deep red. He was waiting for Lance.

Keith must have dozed, his head nodding in between the pages because he didn't see Lance approach. One moment it was silent save for the crackling of the fire, and the next Lance's voice washed over him as though he had been participating in a conversation for some time.

"...so then I thought 'hey, maybe we could get to know each other a bit,' you know? But I can't," Lance sighed, and when Keith opened his eyes he saw Lance sitting beside the fire in the same state Keith had seen him the night before. The brilliant blue that gave off a heat, but this time it was more gentle, less heart-wrenching.

Lance noticed he had woken, and gave him a sad smile. "That's all the time I have for chatting anyway. Drink it in now because you're not going to remember a thing tomorrow."

Keith sat up, and Lance was too close to him again. He could see the details of the feathers on Lance's face, and his fingertips itched again with the want to touch.

"I don't have to do it this way," Lance said. "Sorry."

Then Lance was kissing him, deep and sensual, and nothing like how he'd imagine him to be. Lance held him still with a hand at his nape. When Keith felt him lick inside his mouth he swore he could feel Lance grinning against his lips with an air of smug satisfaction, but he was too preoccupied with stifling a moan at the back of his throat.

Lance pulled away slowly, and Keith opened his eyes wondering when he'd closed them. The world before him was out of focus, and he shook his head, but his brain felt as though it were rattling inside his skull. Keith gasped, but Lance hushed him.

"Don't fight it. Just relax into it." Lance was helping him to lie down where his sleeping bag below him felt like it was the softest bed of feathers. "Sleep now. I'll make sure your fire doesn't go out."

 

Shiro was harassing him again. He'd been cooped up in his house all week, and flooded with more work than he knew what to do with. At this rate he'd have his new shop in no time.

"You need to get out of the house," Shiro reasoned. "C'mon, seeing Lance will give you a lift."

Keith blinked. "Who's Lance?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	8. Unbearable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I have not been answering my AO3 messages. They just kept piling up, and I couldn't keep up. I really do enjoy chatting with everyone, so I will try to be more diligent about answering them! Thank you to everyone who comment(s) with words of support, and encouragement. You're so fantastic, and amazing!
> 
> In other note, it was difficult for me to not be too explicit with my background of writing all the smut. I think I managed though, it was a challenging, but very entertaining write. Enjoy!

If he were a smarter man, Keith would have waited until springtime to renovate his shop, but the money had been too good, and he figured there was no harm in at least getting started. They were just adding two extra bays to his current shop anyway. But as is the way with most construction projects, things got a little out of hand, and before he knew it his entire shop was torn apart. That's what he got for having a bottomless budget.

Keith gritted his teeth against the sound of power tools. He gripped his beer so hard he was sure the glass would shatter in his hand.

Enough! He couldn't take it.

Keith got to his feet, and knocked back the rest of his beer. Red chirped at him from his spot on a chair under the table, standing, and arching his back in a stretch.

"Sorry buddy," Keith said, petting his head. "I have to leave you here with all this noise. It'll only be for a little while."

Keith put down extra food for the cat, and entertained the idea of bringing an extra change of clothes, but he would only be back first thing in the morning. So he threw on his jacket, and grabbed his keys. He locked his apartment, and made sure the shop was secure. The construction crew didn't need to be in there with thousands... likely hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of tools.

Keith said a few words to the guy in charge, explaining that he'd be gone, and got in his truck.

It hadn't snowed much at all, which was odd for the season, but no snow for a little while also usually meant a large dump later in the year. Too much snow made trouble for the people of the town, Keith included as he owned the biggest tow truck around.

Shiro was practically a next door neighbor, but he still lived a good twenty minute drive away. His property was much smaller than Keith's, just a house right off the highway with enough land to grow food in the summer. Keith pulled his truck into Shiro's driveway, taking care as it was steep leading down to his house. He parked next to Shiro's black truck, and when he got out, the front door of Shiro's house was already open.

"Couldn't stand it anymore?" Shiro smirked from his doorway.

"Shut up," Keith replied, trudging through the snow to Shiro's front door. "You need to shovel your driveway."

"Considering all the times I've been to your place, and had to slog through the snow, I think you can deal with it just this one time. Want a beer?"

"Please."

Shiro's house was nice, certainly one of the nicer ones around, and unlike Keith's apartment above his shop, one didn't have to stumble up a million stairs to get to it. It was clean, and reminiscent of a little old lady's house. Bachelor pad certainly wasn't a term to describe how Shiro lived.

Keith collapsed on the couch in the living room, sighing in relief as he enjoyed the quiet. Since Shiro's house was much closer to the main highway than Keith's, each passing vehicle could be heard, but it was a lot better than being at home amidst the sawing and hammering.

He grunted as he felt something dig into his spine. Keith reached under him, and pulled out a book. It was a fiction something-or-other, and Keith placed it on the end table on top of another book that was already there. Keith looked around, the corners of his mouth turning up. There were books everywhere, on the tables, one on the arm of the couch, and even a few on the floor.

"What? Been on a reading kick?" Keith sat up to accept the beer Shiro held out to him.

Shiro looked around, and flushed as though he were just seeing the stacks for the first time. "I've always read a lot, and it's a bad habit of mine not to put them back on the shelf."

Keith chuckled, but let it go. It wasn't his house anyway. "Sorry to surprise you like this. The noise is just unbearable, no room to unwind."

"That's okay. I figured you'd be around sooner, or later. How are the renovations going?" Shiro sat on the couch opposite Keith. Why anyone needed more than one couch was beyond him.

"Fine." Keith shrugged. "I'm a mechanic, not a construction worker. I have no fucking clue if they're cutting corners, or not, but I trust the recommendation. It's a small town. I know exactly who to go back to if something turns out to be wrong."

"True enough. What are you going to do once it's finished?"

"Well..." Keith reclined back into the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. "With four bays that's more work than I could ever hope to handle. I'd have to hire someone. I'll likely take on some kid because an experienced mechanic would be more money than I could afford."

"Just a tire guy?"

"Yeah, at first anyway. They'd have to learn quick though. We're not a major shop in the city, we don't get enough business for a new hire to do just tires. I'd need them to do more. If I could train someone to do all basic maintenance that would be great. Then I could focus on any broken vehicles that come through. Eventually I'd like to have two employees. I've also considered expanding into a full body shop in the future."

"Really? Wow, you need to get yourself a wife."

Keith snorted. "That'll never happen."

"Husband then."

"Shiro, it doesn't matter what gender you're advocating for, but advocating for me to marry at all is just plain old-fashioned. Besides, you should take some of that advice yourself."

"Fine, I get it, and you know that no one wants to be with ex-military. Not like I've done anything with myself since I served anyway. Just moved out here, and learned to drive a logging truck."

"So you're saying that you do want to get married?"

A flush tinted Shiro's cheeks, making the scar over his nose more prominent, and Keith smiled. If Shiro had ever shown any inclination towards men, Keith would have been all over that in seconds. Keith didn't want a partner because he didn't want anyone bossing him around, telling him what to do, but Shiro was already his best friend. And what could be better than being with your best friend?

"You say you don't want to get married, and that's all well and fine, but what about in the meantime?" Shiro said. "Someone to have around for sex, or companionship? You were eyeing up Lance the last time we were at the bar."

Keith took another sip of beer, feeling the alcohol begin to sink into his veins, relaxing him, and he leaned back into the couch, sighing when he didn't hear any power tools. "Well, I've got Red for companionship, and I still don't know who this Lance is."

Shiro gazed at him incredulously, then seemed to pick his words carefully. Perhaps he thought Keith was in a sort of self-denial. "You know... Lance? He's the kid who works at the bar. The same kid you were practically undressing with your eyes when we were in there a few months ago." When Keith showed no signs of familiarity, a dark glint shadowed Shiro's eyes. "Fine. If you're going to be that way, let's go."

 

Keith wasn't giving up on trying to convince Shiro that he wasn't going to the bar. He had cursed his small stature as Shiro reached into his space faster than he could react. Shiro manhandled him, throwing him over his shoulder. Keith wriggled, and swore, their close friendship wouldn't allow him to strike Shiro, even in the back as he was being carried, so he tried tickling, and squirming, all to no avail.

"Shiro, really. I don't need to go to the bar," Keith said. "I don't want to go to the bar. I came to your house to escape people, not to be surrounded by them."

Keith leaned against the inside of the passenger door of Shiro's truck, his arms crossed over his chest. He was trying not to pout, but he was sure he wasn't being successful.

"Relax," Shiro laughed. "Just one drink. Then we can go back to my house, and you can get sloshed all you want. Your cheeks are flushed, you must be feeling good by now. We don't have to talk to anyone, just one drink, and we'll go."

Keith groaned. "Why are you so insistent that I see this guy? I've never seen you act so weird."

"There's never been anyone like him in the town before."

Keith sighed, leaning his forehead up against the cool glass of the window of the truck. Shiro was right, his cheeks were a little flushed, and the beers he had consumed had made him loose. He wasn't drunk, but he wasn't stiff either.

"One drink, Shiro. You hear me?"

 

The bar was busy. Keith had never seen it so busy on a week night before, and he pressed into Shiro's side as the noise of shouting drunkards reached his ears. Already his introverted batteries felt as though they were at maximum capacity.

The bar was bright, loud, and slightly smelly. It was warm too, too many bodies crammed into such a tiny space. Keith wasn't able to see anything but Shiro's back. Unconsciously, he slid a finger into the waistband of Shiro's pants, and closed his eyes. He focused on breathing for a moment, trusting Shiro to find them a spot. When Shiro began to move forward, he felt the tug at his waistband, and Keith felt Shiro's hand enclose over his own.

Shiro guided them both, their clasped hands prevented them from becoming separated. Not like being lost in a place like this was that big of a deal, it wasn't that big, and he would be able to spot Shiro quickly, but he used the bigger man as a shield while he gathered his wits. What ever happened to the sleepy place this used to be? Keith had preferred that over this.

When Keith did manage to look around, he realized many of the tables were unoccupied. As he sat at a tiny table pushed back up against the wall, in a corner, and right near the open window, Keith noticed that many of the men were standing. This bar had mostly been filled with men in the first place, but they had been middle-aged, just looking for a cold drink, and a hot meal after a long day at work. Now there were a significant number of younger men in addition to the older ones. No one had ordered food, but everyone was drinking as though it were Saturday night.

A single waiter weaved his way through the crowd. His movements had caught Keith's eye, and he stared, unblinking. The men were like multi-coloured cocks, pushing their chests out, and clucking as they clamored over each other to vie for the waiter's attention. He saw Keith and Shiro, and broke out in such a brilliant smile that Keith had to look away despite himself.

Across the small table, Keith heard Shiro chuckle, and turned to glare only to find Shiro staring at him. "I told you," Shiro said. "There isn't anyone like him in town."

Keith huffed, and clicked his tongue. "Fine, but he's not a stripper. Don't embarrass me by pawing at him like everyone else in here."

\----------

Lance's heart had leaped into his throat, and he coughed. Keith was here. He shouldn't be surprised really, he lived here after all, but his mind still raced as he thought about all the way in which the mind-wipe could have gone wrong.

"You okay, baby?"

A man tried to grab onto Lance's shoulder, but he danced out of the way, giving him a teasing smile.

Keith moved to sit at one of the few unoccupied tables in the corner, and Lance made eye contact, flashing his best smile so they knew he acknowledged them. It would be another moment before he would be able to reach them.

As he finished making the drinks that had been ordered, Lance glanced at Keith's table from the corner of his eye. He had seen Keith with that man before, but Lance couldn't recall his name. They were completely engrossed in their conversation, tilting towards each other, but their bodies faced the rest of the room, and their eyes scanned the crowd. Keith looked annoyed, which wasn't so different from how he had looked when he had been in the bar before. Before... _that_ had happened.

Lance shook himself.

\----------

It was a good five minutes before the waiter reached them, but it wasn't for a lack of trying. His hands moved over the drinks he was making at the bar quickly, bright concoctions that looked like they would be better suited to be served in the city.

Keith leaned over the table so Shiro could hear him over the din of the bar. "What's his name again."

"Lance," Shiro replied. "They say he makes the most amazing drinks, and it was because of him that the drink menu of this place now includes -" he waved his hand in the direction of the bar, indicating the colourful drinks Lance was putting the finishing touches on. "- that."

"What ever happened to a good beer?"

"Don't knock it 'till you try it."

"Would you drink one of those things?"

"Hell no."

It was a virtual meat factory in there, and they were all there for Lance. Keith squirmed as he watched Lance move about the room, balancing the drinks on a tray that he feared would come crashing to the floor any second. Keith didn't miss the gropes, and cop-a-feels as Lance passed the men, and it lit something deep inside him. He wanted to get out of there. Lance was a looker, Keith had no problem admiring that, but he was trying to do his job. Nowhere in the job description did it say that Lance had to put up with that kind of behaviour, and the fact that he was not only allowing it, but seemingly to encourage it made Keith's gut clench.

He felt ill, and he closed his eyes against the offending picture, leaning against the window as he fought for something to ground him. Keith didn't get a chance to gather himself before he felt something brush against his leg. He started, and he preemptive touch was the only warning he got before he was caged in. Keith heard the tray Lance had been holding crash to the ground, a sound that cut through the din of the bar, but he suddenly found himself with no air left to breathe as Lance's chest was inches from his face. Lance was poised over Keith, both arms braced against the wall just above Keith's head, and the only thing that prevented Lance from being in his lap. There were whistles, and howls from around them as Lance righted himself, tugging his clothes straight.

"Sorry about that," Lance grinned. "I was rushing to get to your table too quickly, and I must have fell. I really am so sorry."

Lance bent to pick up his tray, which had fallen onto the floor next to Keith's chair. He knew Lance wasn't intending anything, but the sight of the boy's face much too close to his crotch set Keith's face aflame as he was assaulted with the highly inappropriate image of Lance with his lips stretched wide over -

"What do you want, Keith?" Shiro said. His friend and Lance were looking at him expectantly, and Keith felt as though he had gone through a time-skip.

"I – ah, a beer," he answered automatically.

"Are you sure?" Lance winked at him. "I can make you anything, baby. Are you sure you don't want anything stronger?"

That phrase snapped Keith out of his reverie in an instant, and he sat up straight, meeting Lance's gaze for the first time. "I want a beer." His words came out strong, and clear. "I need fast, reliable, and friendly service. I'm not here to support an establishment that forces degradation on its employees."

Lance stared at him, his full lips parted in shock, and Keith averted his gaze again as soon as the inappropriate images began to betray him. He wasn't like everyone else in here. Lance was a good-looking guy, and Keith had no issue with admiring him, but he wasn't about to take it further. This guy deserved to do his job in peace.

Lance laughed, a sound that was clear, and made Keith's heart beat just a little bit faster. "Well, aren't you something?" Lance said. "A beer it is then."

Keith sipped his drink quickly, and growled at Shiro when he failed to do the same. He wanted to get out of there, he couldn't watch the going ons of the establishment any longer, and to be expected to be okay with it.

When Lance brought him the check, Shiro picked it up, stared at it, and began to laugh. Keith prompted his friend, but when Shiro refused to reply, he snatched the paper from his fingers. He paled. All of the blood in his body suddenly disappeared, and he felt dizzy. Right on the top of the check was a note scribbled from Lance.

 

_I get off at 11. What do you say to a private drink, on me?_

 

Keith stuffed the paper into his pocket before remembering that the bill had to be paid, and placed it face-down on the table. There was no way. He couldn't. No.

"Take him up on the offer," Shiro said as though he were reading Keith's mind. "You've got nothing to lose. I won't let you turn this down."

"Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	9. Out of Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter. This stuff happens sometimes. Enjoy!

Keith watched the lights in the bar go out one by one. It was some time after 11 before Lance came out, but Keith didn't mind. He used the extra time to gather his wits because what the fuck was he doing?

There were other men, a lot of other men waiting outside for Lance to get off. They huddled together like a bunch of fans, and Keith had grabbed Shiro's arm.

"Take me back home," Keith hissed. "I want to go back to your place. This isn't for me. Look at them! No. I need to go home."

"Relax," Shiro laughed. "He asked for you specifically, didn't he?"

"Why?" he was trying not to whine, but he felt his voice nearly crack like some teenager. "I'm not one of these kids. I'm an old man. I've got nothing on these city kids. Take me home."

"Keith." Shiro's voice was stern now. "Just talk to him. You know my number. You can call for a pickup anytime, but until then at least give it a chance. And you're not even close to thirty yet. Don't call yourself an old man, it makes me feel old."

And that was how Keith ended up waiting outside. Alone. In the cold.

He stood a fair ways apart from the men who pressed up against the door, practically drooling all over the glass. The cigarette clutched in between his fingers glowed a soothing ember, providing him something to look at. He'd bought a pack, but after so many years of not smoking, he couldn't take a hit. That was comforting in a lot of ways. Quitting smoking had been a bitch, but the smell of the burning stick still calmed him down.

When a hand grabbed the front of his jacket, Keith had thought his heart had stopped. He was dead. It wasn't like he was a big man, and he would get the shit beat out of him instantly. He had been leaning against the wall of the bar close to the other side, and was dragged out of sight while a hand covered his mouth to keep him quiet. This was how it was going to end.

"I'm sorry," Lance whispered, but there was mirth in his eyes. "I didn't mean to scare you. I usually go out the back door when my shift is over, and I saw you were within prime reaching distance."

Keith was nearly panting, his heart beating in his throat. Christ, what the fuck? But before he could voice his opposition, Lance was dragging him across the street, and he stumbled, struggling to keep up.

"Man, they sure are pushy tonight," Lance said when they were safely within his motel room.

"Yeah, I guess." Keith took a seat in the chair, his leg bumping up against the guitar, and making the strings twang. He was careful as he righted the instrument, noting the notches and dents in the wood.

He stared at the instrument. His stomach was flipping, feeling as though butterflies were fluttering about in there, but it wasn't nervousness. He traced the strings of the guitar carefully.

"Do you play?" Keith asked, almost absently.

"Oh, yeah. Sort of." Lance was standing at a long table that looked like it didn't belong to the motel. On it was a collection of alcohol that would put any bar to shame. "I got it off this guy. Anyway, I'm learning. Being able to play brings a lot of people together here. What do you want to drink?"

"A beer."

"There is no beer here. Pick something else. I'll make it for you."

Keith finally tore his eyes from the guitar, and up to Lance. He was gorgeous, but Keith forced himself to look at the table behind him. Some bottles he recognized, but most he didn't. He felt quite overwhelmed by the whole thing.

"Make me what you make best," he finally said.

Lance stared at him with an unreadable expression before a grin cracked his features. "That's such a cop-out." But his tone was teasing.

As Keith watched Lance make the drink, a sudden realization hit him: he was in someone's motel room at whatever time of night it was. He pondered this with an increasing sense of anxiety. Social construct dictated that a drink offered was a form of payment in return for... sex. Oh, god. When was the last time he had sex?

Lance nearly startled him out of his seat when he offered Keith the drink, which was something dark, and cold. Their fingers brushed as Lance handed him the glass in a way that Keith couldn't help, but think was intentional. A warmth that was so contrasting to the icy glass spread along his skin in a shock that electrified the nerves. It wasn't painful, but something tugged in Keith's mind just like the guitar strings.

"Try it," Lance said, and it was a moment before Keith realized he was talking about the drink. "It's not too strong, but with a rich flavour. I think you'll like it."

Keith raised the glass to his lips. Through watching Lance create drinks at the bar, Keith had expected something more colourful. The first taste was rich, and earthy, not entirely unlike beer although it lacked the distinct yeasty flavour. This drink burned as it slid down his throat, but not in an unpleasant way. Keith considered the glass in his hand.

Lance laughed. "Good, right?" He was back at the bar again, seemingly throwing together something for himself. "I didn't know anything when I first came here. I learned a lot from other people, but mostly from books. It became an odd hobby, mixing drinks that luckily turned profitable."

"How long ago did you come here?" Keith asked. "Are you planning to stay?"

"I would like to, but the rental market is non-existent here. Even with a full time job, I don't make enough to save significant money for a down payment. That doesn't mean I'm not trying though."

Keith stared at the motel room with a gnawing in his gut. Everything looked familiar, but it was an odd kind of familiarity that came along with every motel room: the same furniture in each one, the same bed, the same sheets.

"Do you like living here?" Keith asked.

Lance seemed to think about that before giving his answer. "For now, but I can't picture myself staying here forever."

They made small talk with an itch growing deep under Keith's skin. He was developing a headache, and he wasn't sure why.

Lance held out his hand in a silent gesture for his now empty glass. Keith relinquished it, and Lance set it on the tiny table right beside Keith's elbow before stepping into his space. The movement made Keith's mind go blank, he couldn't breathe, and was suddenly very aware of every nerve in his body.

Lance brushed his fingers against the side of Keith's face, the touch so warm. Keith couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched, and he swallowed a whimper.

"Is this okay?" Lance asked, leaning down, and the beginnings to Keith's headache suddenly seemed so far away.

He saw Lance at the bar, being groped by everyone in the room, and Keith shied away. "I don't know," he said quietly. "Is it?"

Lance chuckled, but it wasn't condescending. "I'm the one who invited you here, aren't I?"

That was true, but something was sticking. It were as though Keith were wading through mud, thin invisible tendrils holding him back from something. He couldn't ignore the pounding of his heart when Lance placed a hand on his chest, making Keith finally look up.

It was Keith who closed the gap, pressing their lips together in a kiss that soon turned desperate, and while Keith pulled Lance onto his lap, he knew something was threatening to shatter deep inside him.

 

He was exhausted. Keith had come to realize that fucking all night as a teenager was fine, but that there was a price to be paid as an adult.

He walked along the highway in a daze. Everything around him had a fuzzy tinge as though he were wearing glasses that weren't his. Keith yawned, and turned to walk backwards, sticking out his thumb to the approaching cars. When no one stopped, he hobbled along.

He was sure he looked like crap, hair rumpled, stinking of sex, but even though he'd taken Lance once more before he left, he felt a need growing in his stomach. Keith groaned. If he wasn't careful he was going to get himself bitten. He was too old to be falling for someone after just one night. No. This wasn't love. This was sex, and Keith was already in too deep. He needed to get back to work.

 

He eventually hitched a ride home to many messages on his machine, which he promptly ignored. There were vehicles due out of the shop that day. He had too much work ahead of him to be dawdling in personal affairs. Keith made the strongest cup of coffee he was capable of making, and got to work.

His customers either didn't notice, or didn't care. The smell of grease, and oil covered up the sweat, and come anyway. It didn't change the fact that then the day was done, he headed straight to the shower to scrub at his skin until it had reddened.

According to the contractor, the renovations were nearly complete, perhaps within a week, or two. Keith got to work putting out feelers for a new employee. Life would get in the way of Lance for now, and Keith welcomed it. He was feeling all too out of control.

 

Boys were dumb. Really, they were stupid. Keith raked every kid over hot coals just because of their attitude. Once word had gotten around that Keith was looking for an apprentice, it was as though every household sent him their sons like he was some ancient master finally looking for a student. It was humiliating, but mostly it was exhausting.

The boys came into the shop with a swagger, pants falling down their asses, and hoodies falling over their shoulders. They slumped into the chair across Keith's desk as though they were liquid matter, and not a solid. Keith was regaled with their many accomplishments with 'dude' and 'bro' as the most-used forms to accentuation.

Keith himself wasn't a smart man. He was a good mechanic, and had a business sense, but that was it. Compared to these idiots, he might as well think himself a genius.

After what felt like the millionth interview, which was actually closest to the thirtieth, Keith was beginning to doubt finding an employee at all. This wasn't the city, they didn't have an endless supply of new people.

The door to the shop opened late one evening as Keith was just closing everything down. He looked up to see a young girl no more than maybe sixteen. She had impossibly long hair tied back in a high ponytail.

"Can I help you?" Keith asked.

"Yes, I'm here to apply for the apprentice position," she said.

The girl had a confidence that made Keith pause, and consider her again. She was dressed in a pair of overalls that looked as though they had seen some wear, but her gaze was calm, unwavering.

"Please," Keith offered. "Sit."

When she sat, she sat up straight, and Keith smiled.

Her name was Allura, and she was the daughter of a local farmer. She knew her way around an engine from having to fix farm equipment, but none of that mattered to Keith. By the end of the interview he wanted to hug her, and never let go. She was exactly what he was looking for: quiet, friendly, and decent without 'dude', or 'bro' in her vocabulary. Keith hired her on the spot.

 

He was needy. After his night with Lance there was a flurry of activity in his life that provided distraction, but now that the renovations were well underway, and Allura was hired, all he could think about was Lance.

"So? How did it go?"

Keith could hear Shiro snickering at him from the other end of the phone. He'd purposefully ignored his friend's calls for this reason, the rather unpleasant 'I told you so' that Keith wasn't even sure that meant.

"Fine," Keith growled.

"You hitched back the next morning," Shiro pressed. "Your truck is still over at my house. You must have had a hell of a good night."

With his truck over at Shiro's house, Keith couldn't just rush right over to Lance. It wasn't a mistake that it was still there.

"I guess," Keith said.

"When are you seeing him again?"

"Goobye, Shiro." Keith didn't wait for a reply before he hung up the phone.

He sighed, and shifted where he sat on the couch, pressing the heel of his palm against the bulge straining the front of his jeans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	10. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should post pictures of the valley. So, my family owns property in BC Canada where I've based this setting off of. Keith's house is loosely based on the house we own, but I put it in a different location. I do have some pictures, so maybe I'll upload them to tumblr eventually. We'll see. 
> 
> I should also add that this is almost over. Just less than a handful of chapters, and this'll be done. Fuck, that sucks. I was really enjoying this series. Enjoy!

The weight on the bed next to him was oddly familiar. Lance slept on his stomach with one knee bent to the side, which made him hog the bed. Keith's headache had come back. In the dull morning light, following a night of nonstop sex, something was off. He hissed, grabbing at his head as it felt as though someone were pounding at the inside of his skull. Lance's presence, something about having him in his bed felt more familiar than it should have, even though it was the first time Lance had been in his apartment.

The pain made him get up from the bed, his rough motions failing to disturb Lance who just pulled the blankets tighter around him. His headache didn't come from a hangover, he hadn't drank enough the night before, and the stabbing pain wasn't reminiscent of a hangover headache that was often just a dull throb that was accompanied by nausea. Keith stumbled into the bathroom, and shuffled about in the medicine cabinet in search of the bottle of painkillers. He popped two, swallowing them down as he made his way into the kitchen in search of coffee.

His nightly romps with Lance left him exhausted. Lance had more stamina than one would think just by looking at him, and Keith had set his coffee maker to brew so a fresh pot would be ready for him first thing in the morning. Unfortunately, when Keith came up to the counter, rubbing the back of his neck in hopes of calming his headache, the lights in the coffee maker were dead. Keith sighed, and looked around him. The stove, the microwave, and the electronics below the TV were all dead. The power was out.

Keith went to the window to a view of vast white over the entire landscape. It had been starting to snow when Keith and Lance arrived at his place last night, and it had kept up until morning. As he stood by the window, Keith put his hand close to the electric heater in front of him. It was cold to the touch. The heat had been off for a while, and yet it was warm in the house. Keith wasn't cold despite being sparsely dressed.

He did a lap around the apartment, checking the other heaters, and otherwise at a loss as he felt his muddled brain struggle to form thoughts without the aid of coffee. Keith entertained the idea of plowing the road, but the shop was closed that day. With his head still pounding, Keith went back to bed.

 

Deja-vu was haunting him. It made him nervous, and agitated. There was something on the edge of his mind, and whenever Keith clawed at it, it slipped through his fingers.

Sleeping with Lance had become commonplace. Keith figured it didn't hurt taking Shiro up on his offer; having someone around even just for sex was nice. They would chat together afterwards, but Keith's relationship with Lance was nothing like his relationship with Shiro. It was sex, simple and dirty.

Allura was an amazing girl. She arrived on time, and got right to work. While friendly, she maintained a professional emotional distance that Keith very much appreciated. After all, he had the reputation of being a single, shut-in mechanic of the town, and he didn't need any rumours being spread around where a sixteen year old girl was involved.

Allura worked a few evenings out of the week, and one full weekend day. At first, Keith's workload was nearly doubled as he spent the time teaching her all the basics he could, but it would pay off in the end. She was a quick learner, and Keith couldn't imagine it taking too much time before she was ready to work on her own.

Ever since he started sleeping with Lance, Shiro had stopped bugging him about going out. That was fine with him, and Keith was still too deep into the sex haze to pay much attention anyway.

The headaches still plagued him, ruthless, stabbing pain that wasn't dulled by painkillers. Eventually, Keith went to the doctor in the next town over, and was reassured that nothing was wrong with him. Was he kidding? This pain was normal? So Keith had gone into the city, a good hour and a half's drive from his house for a second opinion. Same thing, they found nothing wrong with him. Keith wondered if he weren't going insane. He hoped it wasn't cancer, he was too young for that.

"And they say there's nothing wrong with you?" Shiro asked.

His friend had dropped by for a quick beer, and some catching up before Lance arrived. Keith was taking the time to rest, sprawled out on the couch with a warm heating bag over his forehead, and Red purring away on his chest.

Keith shrugged. "That's what they say. I've been to two doctors now. Both say I'm fine."

"Well, you're clearly not fine."

"I know." Keith struggled to tamp down on his temper. It wasn't Shiro's fault. This was just a result of some unfortunate luck, or something. Keith couldn't say, he just wanted it to be gone.

Keith barely heard the front door slam through the sudden ringing in his ears that cut through his skull. He arched clean off the couch, faintly registering Red's claws digging into his chest as he scrambled off him.

 

There was darkness. It was overwhelming, and engulfed him completely. Keith's stomach dropped because the blackness was frightening. His name was being called. It was Lance's voice, and a warmth spreading along his chest, easing the pain he hadn't known was there.

A blue glow. The ringing in his ears was back, making him crumple to his knees, and cry out. He was clutching his head as images flashed through his mind. A blue light, a warmth on his skin, there were tears, a deep hurt.

"Keith, hey! It's okay, buddy!"

Keith's body was pinned, and there was a familiar scent. It made him stop struggling.

"There you go," Shiro said. "That's it. Slowly."

He opened his eyes to Shiro smiling down at him. Keith was still on the couch, but he felt his clothes rumpled around his body. Shiro was holding his shoulders, rubbing soothingly, but it felt a though it were merely an excuse to keep his hands on him. His friend was afraid he was going to do something.

"I think we should call the hospital," Shiro said, but it wasn't directed at Keith. He was looking forward, giving Keith a view of the underside of his throat. Keith followed his gaze to Lance, sitting on the floor.

Keith didn't say anything, but the exchange between him, and Lance was obvious to the both of them: Keith knew, and Lance knew he knew. He looked terrified.

"Lance!" Shiro barked, and it seemed to shake him back to the present.

"Yeah..." Lance said weakly. "Maybe that would be best."

"I'm fine." Keith shoved Shiro's hands off him, and sat up. He felt fine, better than fine. Keith felt perfect. The pain was gone, the ringing was gone, there was no dizziness, but he wanted Shiro out. Now.

 

Shiro was reluctant to leave, but Keith managed to persuade him, much to Lance's horror. As the sound of Shiro's truck faded, they remained frozen. Lance's eyes were wide, frightened, like that of an animal. They tensed, and as soon as complete silence fell back over the house, there was a flurry of movement.

Lance dashed down the stairs, and to the door faster than Keith had anticipated. Keith followed right on his heels, reaching out as Lance had to stop to open the door. Keith's fingers brushed Lance's hood, but his hand closed on air. He chased after Lance through the snow, breathing hard as Lance made a bee-line for the trees, but it was a long way. Keith caught up to him, wrestling Lance to the ground, and the other went with a yelp. They struggled for a moment, Lance nearly getting away before Keith dropped his hips, and pinned Lance's hands above his head. After a few more moments where Lance struggled against him, he relented when he couldn't break Keith's hold. They panted, puffs of white staining the air between them.

"I know what you are," Keith finally said, taking in gulps of air. "I remember. You did something to my memory didn't you? Bastard."

Lance whined as though he were being physically hurt. He didn't meet Keith's gaze, and he sniffed as tears fell freely down his cheeks.

"You're not going to answer me?" Keith growled. "Figures. Well, if you're not going to tell me anything then at least answer this, why me? Why choose me to toy with?"

"I wasn't toying with you!" Lance gasped. "I wasn't toying with anyone."

"Then, why?"

Lance swallowed, and opened his eyes. Keith felt his heart lurch. They had an intimate relationship after all, and it wasn't as though seeing Lance in distress didn't affect him.

"We're taught to stay away from humans," Lance said quietly. "Our whole lives are spent alone. I just didn't want to be alone anymore."

\----------

Lance had been arrogant. He'd thought Keith's memories wouldn't come back, and it was a foolish mistake. As he sat inside Keith's house while the other bustled around the kitchen, Lance stared out the window, imagining where he would be now if he had just stayed away.

"Here." Keith handed him something hot that steamed. Lance sipped at it almost absentmindedly while Keith pulled up a chair, and sat on it with his own mug.

"Tell me everything," Keith said.

Lance took a breath. He figured he'd gotten this far, what more was there to lose?

"We're phoenixes," he started. "I know that probably sounds crazy to you. There's not much to tell, really. We've lived in these mountains for generations, alone from the time we're born to the time we die. That's how it's been until...well until me. I just got tired of living alone, and there's no history of us interacting with humans other than that we're taught to avoid them. I came down to see if humans really would try, and hurt me like I've been told."

"And?" Keith prompted. "What did you find?"

Lance smiled, a weak gesture as he stared at the mug in his hands. His eyes were still red.

"Love," Lance said. "With you, with others, and with everyone in this town. I found danger too. I got hurt, shot by a human weapon, and very nearly discovered by that meddlesome human friend of yours. Most of all, I found companionship. I wasn't lonely anymore.

'If you're wondering about you, I like you. You're different from any other man I've met here, and I became curious. In hindsight I just should have stayed away."

Keith stared down at his coffee. After a while, he got to his feet, and wandered over to the window, standing next to Lance, and staring out the window.

"Say something," Lance said. He was staring at Keith, a look of near desperation on his face.

"Fine," Keith said.

"Fine?"

"Fine. What else do you want me to say, Lance? Do I have any other choice than to believe you?"

\----------

Keith rapped his knuckles against the door, wincing as the knock sounded quiet, and hesitant. He was just distracted, still questioning his descision even while standing on Pidge's doorstep.

"Keith?" Pidge blinked at him as he opened the door. For once he appeared well rested, without dark circles under his eyes.

"I need to talk to you, Pidge," Keith said. "Do you have some time?"

"Yeah. Uh – of course. Come in. Want some coffee?"

Keith nodded as he removed his shoes, and shrugged out of his jacket. He was in a waking-dream. His body felt cold, his hands were clammy.

"What brings you over here so suddenly? That's unlike you." Pidge was already busying himself with the coffee pot.

"Can you spike that when you're done?" Keith took a seat at the breakfast bar before he fell down.

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything else.

The coffee was finished, Pidge slid a bottle of something over the bar at him so he could pour it into his drink himself. He did, and took a sip. The alcohol made the coffee even hotter, liquid warmth sliding down his throat that did little to ease his nerves.

"Now, talk," Pidge demanded. "You didn't come over in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday just for a drink."

"It's about your research, that footage you had that wasn't quite clear. You said you'd clean it up," Keith said. "What ever became of that?"

"I cleaned it up." Pidge's tone was cautious. "Just like I said I would."

"And? What did you find?"

"I think you need to tell me exactly why you're here first."

"Okay." Keith knocked back the rest of the drink, wincing as the hot coffee burned all the way down to his stomach. "Lance is a phoenix." When Pidge didn't look surprised, Keith continued. "I figured at this point you'd know about it. You're not stupid. Now, I need to know what you're going to do about it."

"Keith -"

"You can't turn him in," Keith interrupted. "I won't have it, Pidge."

A hand that slid onto his thigh squeezed in a grip that was oddly reassuring. "Keith," Pidge said. "There are many things in this world I don't understand. Shiro's told me about you, and Lance. I already decided long before that I wouldn't report my finding where he's concerned." Pidge grinned, a shit-eating grin. "As long as you tell me everything you know about him."

Keith laughed, and nodded.

"Do you love him?" Pidge asked.

"That's not related to your research."

 

Keith waited outside the bar for Lance. Like before, he stood a ways away from the group of fans pressing themselves up against the main door. Keith strained, listening for the sound of the back door opening. He wondered how long Lance's fans waited after Lance was long gone. They must eventually realize that Lance is no longer in the bar, and go home. Did they know about the back door? They couldn't be that stupid, could they?

The back door creaked, and Keith stepped around the corner. He saw Lance backing through it, waving no doubt at the owner still inside with a smile on his face. Lance started, the smile wiped clean as soon as he saw Keith.

"Want to come back to my place?" Keith said.

 

The drive was made in silence. Lance stared out the window with a neutral expression on his face. His body was turned away from Keith, and that stung a little. He supposed he couldn't much blame Lance. Keith had needed time to process, and after that time to speak to Pidge. It was odd to have memories of Lance as a phoenix, then of their nights together, and have everything rushing back to him. Keith knew that Lance as a phoenix, and Lance as a lover were one in the same, but his mind in some way refused to accept that.

Keith threw his truck into park, and got out of the driver's side. He walked around the vehicle, and opened Lance's door. Lance stared at him.

"It must hurt," Keith said. "Having to keep your wings, and tailed tucked away...ah, wherever you put them."

Lance didn't say anything for a long while, looking as though he were gauging the intention behind Keith's words. "I suppose," he said.

"Look, Lance. I spoke to Pidge. He's known what you are for a while. He won't report you. You're safe here. You can...change, or not change. Whatever you need to do."

"Okay."

This was the scary part. Keith took a breath before continuing. "I want to keep whatever it is we have. I don't know how much you understand about human emotions. I don't know how much you feel, and there's a lot I don't know about you, but I'd like to know more."

A smile finally cracked Lance's demeanor, and he laughed. The sound made Keith flush, thinking he'd said something wrong, or stupid.

Lance pressed his lips to Keith's cheek, and slid out of the truck.

That night, the image of Lance's wings, - brilliant, and glowing in the dark - was burned into his mind. There were no tears this time, and it made Lance all the more stunning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	11. Normal Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you thought it was over, didn't you? Enjoy!

“Lance. Get up, or you'll miss the bus.” Keith kicked the mattress, and Lance stirred, rolling onto his back.

Keith clicked his tongue, pushing the feeling of annoyance down to the pit of his stomach. He couldn't afford to waste any more time trying to get Lance up - time he was spending away from the shop. He had a lineup of cars waiting to be serviced, and Allura wasn't scheduled to be in that day. Keith was on his own.

He stopped in the kitchen to top up his coffee mug with liquid he had been saving for Lance, but he was beyond that point now. Lance was going to miss the bus, and he was going to miss another shift at the bar, making it twice in the last week. Having Lance live with him was one thing, but having him be completely reliant on Keith was another entirely. He hadn't agreed to that. Having Lance move out of that disgusting motel, yes, but not this. Lance was a fully-grown man – er, at least close enough. It wasn't Keith's job to be the sole supporter.

He wondered if there were working at all. It certainly wasn't working anywhere near to what Keith had envisioned.

Keith rushed down the stairs, boots thumping on each step, and yanked the door to the shop open. Red turned his head from his place on top of his desk, and chirped in greeting. A red-faced man was tapping his foot impatiently.

“Sorry,” Keith apologized. “A small personal matter.”

“Well, hurry up!” the man snapped. “I have places to be.”

Right.

The man was from out of town, and dressed rather smartly. He had unwisely chosen to drive the harsh winter highways without the proper tires, and had slid into the ditch. Normally such a thing wouldn't have been a problem, but as he had happened to slide straight into a lone streetlight. Keith had picked him up in his tow truck. That streetlight marked an important intersection, but the accident had put a nice-sized dent into the side of the man's import, and rattled the innards a bit. Now he was busy riding Keith's ass to fix the thing so he can get the hell outta dodge. Keith just wanted him the hell out of his shop. He wasn't a body shop, at least not yet. Keith couldn't just bang out the dent like he could with beaters, so all he could hope to do was to get it running up to snuff again. The man should be counting his lucky stars that the frame wasn't bent. That was unfixable.

“Let's go, buddy,” Keith mumbled to the cat, pausing by his desk to allow the feline to jump onto his shoulder. He felt tiny claws threaten to punch through his overalls, but the thick fabric held. Keith didn't want Red in his shop, but he wanted his pet around the angered man even less.

He lifted the cat onto a stool by the import, in clear view of Keith's work space, and ordered it to stay. It wasn't as though the cat were trained, but so much time spent alone together had bonded them an unusual way, and Red was oddly communicative for a cat.

“The shop is dangerous,” Keith said in a stern voice. “I don't want you getting hurt.”

He tapped the top of Red's head firmly when he tried to jump off the stool, and the cat mewled at him. Keith waved his hand towards Red's head again, and the cat lay down with a huff.

“Behave yourself,” Keith called as he wondered over to the import. “Or the guy'll be in our shop longer than we want.”

 

The import took most of the day. The parts were tightly packed under the hood, and Keith had to work to maneuver himself around under there, even with the help of advanced tools and his hoist. If he were a lesser mechanic, he wouldn't have even finished in one day, but a lifetime love of all things mechanical had made Keith the best at what he did. He was second to perhaps Pidge, but that didn't count.

It was the fancy man's choice to remain in the shop, despite Keith's insistence that he go into town. The town wasn't large, but it had a bar, a cafe, and a library that he could've hung out at. Keith's waiting room was decent: clean with comfortable seating, and the current local paper, but that was it. It wasn't built for someone to lounge around all day, especially without cell service. But he was stubborn. Not that Keith cared much. He didn't go back into the waiting room for the remainder of the day.

Keith left the dent alone, not trusting himself that he wouldn't fuck up the paint job. As he watched the man drive away with a frown, all Keith wanted was a beer, but he wasn't done yet.

Red was still curled up on the stool, snoozing away, and Keith let him back in the waiting room where he could bathe in the last of the day's light.

“Alright Keith, c'mon. You're almost done,” he muttered to himself, allowing for a luxurious stretch before he went back to work.

He completely emptied his list of work orders by 10:00pm. A new record.

“I'm so under-appreciated.” Keith could barely move his body. All he wanted was to curl up in his bed, but the shop was a mess. Oil, and other fluids gummed up the floors. His tools needed to be wiped, and put away. Keith was far from finished, but if he got lazy here his shop wouldn't be what it was today. A dirty shop was the sign of a lazy mechanic, and Keith was anything but. He took pride in his work, and his shop. It needed to be clean at all times.

“Can I help?”

Keith had been sitting in a haze of exhaustion that he hadn't noticed Lance come into the shop wearing an easy smile. In his tired state, Keith couldn't prevent a glare from mussing his features.

“Did you just wake up?” Keith hissed, clenching his teeth so hard they hurt just so he wouldn't scream.

“Yeah, sorry. I called the boss already. I guess I was feeling worse than I thought,” Lance said.

“This isn't working,” Keith said. “This is the second time this week. You're going to lose your job at this rate. Look, I know you're not human, but if you're going to fit into the human world, you need a job. If you live at my house, which I pay to heat, and eat my food, I expect you to pitch in. If you can't do that then you need to go back to the motel. That was the deal.”

The smile slid from Lance's face, and his shoulders slumped. He didn't meet Keith's gaze anymore. “Yeah, okay.”

Keith sighed, and got to his feet. This wasn't a conversation to be had when he was so exhausted. He couldn't think.

“Well, the least you can do is help me clean the shop,” Keith said.

 

Their honeymoon phase was petering to an end. The sex was leveling out, all-night fuck sessions giving way to something tamer, and being replaced by the domestic adjustments that came with new couples. Lance was sleeping a lot, and Keith had to wonder whether his kind was affected by the lack of sunlight just as much as him.

For all intents and purposes, Lance was a regular human. He walked, talked, worked, fucked, bathed, and all the other ins and outs that made us human. On rare nights, he made use of Keith's vast property to 'stretch his wings', or so he said. These excursions were done alone, without Keith's presence, but Lance assured him with a smile that he just needed some time to relax. Keeping his wings tucked away was a lot of work. So, Keith would watch from the window as Lance moved into the treeline, and wait for the flash of brilliant blue.

Lance's phoenix form had been beautiful. Keith had only seen it a handful of times, but he couldn't get enough of it. He'd never touched, fearing that Lance would shatter into a million pieces, but what would it feel like? To touch the feathers that looked like they would slice right through him?

 

Shiro invited the two of them over to his house on a day that was so warm it was beginning to melt the snow as winter slowly gave way to the pressure of spring.

It was odd for Keith, being one half of a couple. They bought a nice bottle of wine to bring with them as a gift to their host, and Lance forced him to wear his nice shirt, which was just a shirt that had somehow escaped getting completely covered in grease.

“This is what humans do, don't they?” Lance said as he buttoned the final button at Keith's throat. “They dress up, and go to their friend's houses.”

Keith felt like he was being strangled, and as soon as Lance's hands had moved away from him, Keith undid the first button. “We don't usually button our shirts all the way unless we wear a tie.”

“What? No tie tonight?” Lance was already holding his tie, and looking disappointed. “And I was hoping we could use it later too.”

The innuendo-ed hint still wasn't enough to get Keith to sit through an entire night feeling stuffy.

“Why don't you wear one?” Keith asked.

“With this outfit? It would clash so hard.” Lance twirled in order to make his point that was completely lost to Keith. Despite being human himself, Keith hadn't the mind for fashion trends, especially the kind of fashion Lance tended to wear.

So it was settled: no tie.

They were the last to arrive at Shiro's as was evident by the number of vehicles sitting in the driveway. Shiro's truck of course, but so were Pidge's car, and Hunk's jeep. The way was shoveled so they didn't have to traipse through the snow as they carried their bottle of wine to the door.

Shiro answered when they knocked.

“Hey – wow. Keith, you look good,” Shiro said with a low whistle.

Keith's heart fell as he took in Shiro's appearance, which did include a t-shirt rather than a dress shirt. Casual wear.

“I told you,” Keith hissed.

Lance laughed, smiling widely with a hint of proud smugness. “But you look so good.”

“He does,” Shiro said. “I'm impressed. Come in.”

“If only we can get him to cut this hair.” Keith dodged Lance's grabby hands as they reached for his head, kicked off his boots, and he was off to the kitchen without another word.

Pidge and Hunk greeted him from their spots at the table, and Keith grunted a reply as he reached into the fridge for a beer. From the entrance he heard Shiro and Lance introducing themselves, and admonishing Keith for not doing it himself.

Keith cracked his beer.

“So, how're things?” Pidge asked, but there was something under his tone that made Keith glare, and Pidge chuckled. “Alright, I'll let it go. Domestic shit can be a bitch.”

Hunk was concealing a grin behind a mouthful of something that looked baked. The promise of sweets drew Keith to the table, and he reached to take a cookie from a platter in the center, no doubt set there by Shiro being the mother hen he was.

Something smelled good. Too good. So good. It made Keith's stomach rumble, but before he could peek inside the oven at whatever it was Shiro was serving them, him and Lance came into the kitchen. They were chatting away about Keith as though he weren't even there, speaking about his habits in only the way a close friend, and a lover could. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

Introductions were made by Shiro, which caused a bit of a fuss as they all chided Keith for not being the one to introduce his own boyfriend to his friends. It was all in good fun, at least for them. Keith was already turning over the idea of staying the night in Shiro's spare bedroom so he could drink.

The food was served by Shiro, and Hunk. Keith was sure his stomach couldn't take anymore. It felt as though his stomach was clawing at his guts for a taste, but he waited patiently at the table beside Lance until it was brought over. The feel of Lance's hand resting warm on his leg was enough of a distraction as Hunk and Shiro put the finishing touches onto something that smelled of meat.

Lamb. Keith couldn't even remember the last time he'd ate it, and it was heaven in his mouth. He hadn't been paying much attention to the conversation anyway, allowing the din to wash over him as he ate, drank, and enjoyed himself. Keith did notice when it was no longer there though, the silence suddenly taking up so much space.

Keith paused, and looked around. He first registered Lance squirming beside him, looking uncomfortable. The side of his face Keith could see was flushed, and he was stammering, but the faces of his friends appeared calm, collected.

“What happened?” Keith growled, surprised that he was feeling defensive among his friends.

“We told him we knew,” said Pidge. “about him being a phoenix.”

“What - “

“It's okay,” Shiro cut in before Keith could make a move to get to his feet. “Pidge told us. In all honesty, I still don't really believe it even after seeing the video.”

“But it's not like we're going to tell anyone,” Hunk said. “because seeing Keith happy is more important, but this is a big secret. It's going to take more than the three of you to keep it. We can help.”

They all nodded in unison, and Keith turned to Lance. Lance did not look okay with this idea, his eyes were clouded with worry, but he smiled anyway.

The rest of the evening was Keith's friends working over Lance. It seemed as though they knew he would have a negative reaction, and was working quickly to get him to trust them. Keith too had a knawing inside his stomach that wasn't related to the food. Lance had altered his memories once before, what was stopping him from doing it again? He could leave forever, and Keith would never know. Such a thought made his chest feel tight.

Keith was a little antsy to get out, and once it was polite enough to do so, he suggested they leave. He wanted to talk to Lance in private. The dinner had turned into a ticking time-bomb, and Keith was afraid. He'd never been afraid to lose anyone before.

They said their goodbyes at the door, good-natured if a little stiff. Keith stepped out into the snow while Lance finished, waving behind him. It happened as though in slow motion: Lance turned, following Keith, and smiling when his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. As soon as Lance's legs gave out from under him, Keith was already reaching for him. His world fell away. There was no sound except for the rush of blood in his ears as Lance lie unconscious in his arms. He was heavy. Lance's body was limp, like a weight on his legs. There was rushing around him. Keith realized his voice hurt, and his face was wet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	12. Sleeplessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just as painful for me as it is for you, believe me.

“I'm okay,” Lance mumbled, waving a hand so Keith wouldn't reach for him, and help him out of the truck. “M'just tired.”

Keith hadn't known what to do. If a human had passed out from unknown causes, they would have been on their way to the hospital, but Lance wasn't human. He'd woken after only a minute, or two, bleary-eyed, and smiling. Lance had insisted that he was fine, but Keith saw his body sag into the seat of the truck as soon as they had helped Lance into it.

Keith shot Lance a concerned look, but started to head for the house anyway. He hadn't gotten more than a few steps when Lance spoke again, his voice husky as though he'd slept through the night.

“I need to go away for a bit,” Lance said. “It won't be long. A few days. I just need to rest.”

Keith shoved his alarm down to his toes, but he wasn't able to keep it from his voice completely. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. After a few days, I'll be fine.”

Keith wanted to protest. Lance had never acted like this before, but all he could do was watch while Lance stripped out of his clothing, and handed the garments to him. A churning sensation settled in his stomach as he watched Lance take flight. He hadn't the slightest idea of where Lance was going, or what he was doing. Keith was going to follow, grab his backpack, and head into the woods going the same direction, but it was already dark. The forest was a dangerous place.

He retreated back to the house, restless. Red chirped at him from his sleeping place on the couch. It was Saturday night, and the shop would be closed for the remaining two days. Keith wanted to pack his camping gear, and go after Lance first thing in the morning, but he thought better of it. He doubted such actions would prove useful to Lance. What if Lance came back to the house, and Keith was gone? Then Lance would have to look for him.

With a huff of frustration, Keith went down to the shop, hoping some tinkering would help get his mind off things.

It was the first time Lance's inhumanity was so glaringly obvious. Keith was suddenly filled with questions that burned from the inside out. He couldn't help, but flush a little, embarrassed that he hadn't paid closer attention before. Lance wasn't human, but he hid it so well that it had been easy for Keith to pretend otherwise. He never had bouts of animalistic tendencies, or an unfamiliar sense of human customs. The time Lance had spent interacting with humans obviously hadn't been wasted.

Keith whittled away the night, working until dawn. The good news was that he had finished his work he had been leaving for Tuesday morning when the shop reopened. When he'd worn out his mind, and body, Keith stumbled back upstairs where he crashed on the couch without bothering to take a shower.

When he woke, it was mid-day Sunday, and there was still no sign of Lance in the house. They'd gotten another dump of snow, so Keith went out with his plow to clear his road, and driveway. The highway wasn't bad enough for Keith to go about looking for vehicles having fallen into the ditch, so he went back home.

He avoided coffee for the rest of the day so as to not give himself an excuse to stay awake any longer than he had to. Sleep was a good way to waste away large chunks of time where his mind worried about Lance. He did have to drink heavy amounts of water to try and fend off a headache from the lack of caffeine, and he spent much time researching alternate methods of waking in the morning to no avail.

Lance finally returned Tuesday night, long after the shop had closed, and just as Keith was getting ready for bed. He looked much more lively than when he'd left Saturday night. Keith hadn't known how tired-looking Lance had slowly become. His eyes seemed lighter, and his face had more colour to it.

“I'm sorry to worry you,” Lance said with a smile. “I get tired being human all the time, and I need to recover.”

“Where do you go to – uh, recover?” Keith asked.

“Just a spot in the mountains. It's lonely there though without anyone around.”

“Are you okay now?”

Lance nodded.

“If it's too much,” Keith said. “Why don't you start to keep your human form less?”

Lance laughed, a sound that was no longer hollow. “Thanks Keith, but I think I'll continue my recovery alone.”

 

A few months later, Lance began to slow down again. Keith paid attention this time, and noticed dark circles appearing under his eyes. He slept for longer periods, and his smile didn't seem as bright. Keith thought that when Lance looked at him, there was a sadness in his expression, but he was never sure as Lance looked away as soon as Keith caught him staring.

Lance announced that he needed to leave again, for a few days just like last time.

“I'm coming with you,” Keith said in a firm tone, trying to leave as little room as possible for Lance to argue.

Lance laughed at him then. “It's not a place humans can get to. You won't be able to reach it.”

“Fine, only part way then.”

Keith spent the day packing his gear while Lance slept in their bed. Allura was fairly far long in her professional development. He gave her a key, and explained how to open the shop. She was able to do most maintenance work, and at the very least she'd hold down the fort while he was gone. He'd only be gone a couple days.

Lance hiked with him into the forest. They used the same game trail that was there during the summer, but the slog was rough. With the weather becoming warmer, and spring arriving soon, the snow was heavy and wet. Keith struggled to stay dry because if he got wet the trip would be over.

They reached Keith's camping spot by mid-day. The same spot he had first saw Lance in phoenix form.

“M'sorry, Keith,” Lance said, his voice quiet. “I can't help you. I need to go.”

Keith nodded, and bid him goodbye before he went about setting up camp.

He cleared the area with the shovel, just like the first time, but it look him a lot longer, the weight of the snow making him strain. Keith had worked up quite the sweat by the time he was done, and he made sure to take a piece of twine, stretching it across two nearby tress to make a crude clothesline. He tied it as close to where the fire would be as he dared.

After chopping wood, it was nearly dinnertime, and darkness would fall quickly. Keith set about starting a fire, struggling to get it going, but he had brought good tinder. The fire was a long process, and his stomach was rumbling by the time he was finished with it.

Dinner. Throw some firewood on. Check to make sure drying clothes aren't burning. Read. Throw some firewood on. Cold. Set up bed. Throw more firewood on. Doze. Sleep.

Keith saw the dull blue hue before he opened his eyes. He rolled onto his back, turning his head away from the light. The leave-less branches of the trees creaked in the wind, and he shivered. Sometime in the night he'd pushed the sleeping bag down his hips, exposing him to the winter air. Before he could pull the sleeping bag back up, a warmth spread across his chest, like a blanket that had been thrown over him.

“Lance,” Keith moaned, his voice thick with sleep.

When he heard Lance's familiar laugh in his ear, Keith started awake. He forced himself through the drudge of sleep to open his eyes.

“Lance! What are you doing here?” Keith had to touch him to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

The woods were dark, the black threatening to close around them. The fire had burned down to mere embers that gave off warmth, but the real heat came from Lance lying naked on top of him. Keith swallowed, and stared. Lance rarely allowed him to touch him with his wings, and tail out. Keith never got the impression it was out of disgust, but it seemed to pain Lance, as though it reminded him of something. Now, with Lance sitting on top of him Keith struggled with his desire to touch. His fingers itched. God, Lance was beautiful.

“I want you to,” Lance said, and took a moment to take a breath. “I want you to touch me like this, Keith. Is that okay?”

“Yes, god yes.” Keith was already mesmerized by him.

Lance's wings were curled close around them as though he were trying to shield Keith from the wind. Keith pulled Lance down so he were lying with his head under Keith's chin, a position that had become so familiar to them. Then, he went slow. His hands found the middle of Lance's back, in between his wings, and tail, but not touching either. Against the back of his hands, the tips of Lance's wings grazed him, feathers that looked to be razor sharp had an surprising softness to them. The light touch warmed Keith's skin, but didn't burn. Keith waited there for a moment until he felt Lance's nervous shivering gradually begin to subside.

“Tell me if anything I do isn't okay,” Keith said, and Lance nodded.

Slowly, he smoothed his hand up Lance's back until he found the place where Lance's wings protruded from between his shoulder blades. His fingers danced around that spot, trying to memorize it like he'd memorized every plane of Lance's body before. When he was ready, he traced up Lance's wings, combing his fingers through the feathers, and watching them flutter. Lance seemed to feel everything, reacting with small sighs.

When Keith had his fill for now, he trailed both hands back down Lance's spine. His lover arched against him, biting back a small whimper as Keith's fingers brushed the tip of his tail. Keith smiled, so he was sensitive there.

“Keith -” Lance groaned, wings shuddering above him. “More, please. Touch me more.”

Even through his clothes, and the sleeping bag tangled around them, Keith was warm. The warmth was what prevented him from noticing the wetness that bled through his shirt. It wasn't until Lance sniffed in his arms that made Keith crane to try, and see his face.

“Lance?” Keith urged, but Lance's face was buried in his chest. “What's wrong?”

There was the sound of muffled laughter before Lance finally raised his head, tears streaming down his face. “Nothing. I'm being stupid. No one has ever touched me in this form. I'm just stupidly happy.”

Keith couldn't help, but laugh too.

For the first time their love-making wasn't rushed, or with a desperate edge. Keith normally enjoyed being rough with Lance, making him cry out, and whimper, but he was afraid Lance would break then, that his wings were made of glass, and would shatter at the slightest touch. He held Lance close, and worked up him up slowly until neither of them had the energy to move anymore.

 

For a time, Lance was lively again, and Keith was happy.

When Lance fainted, this time in the middle of work, Keith came immediately to pick him up. Lance said nothing during the drive home. He didn't speak as he got out of the truck, stripped down, handed his clothing to Keith, and flew into the air over the woods.

Lance was gone nearly a week this time, and something dark was in his eyes when he returned.

“Keith, I've got something to tell you," Lance said. “I'm dying, Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


	13. Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter to ease me back into it after a long... long break.
> 
> If anyone happens to be interested, I do have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/) and new fic goals for 2018!

Keith hadn't known what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. He'd thought that Lance was simply spending too much time in a form that was difficult for him. Perhaps Lance would need to return to wherever it was he came from for a time, or maybe they'd move to a more isolated place where Lance was free to be in his alternate form for longer periods. Either way, they would work it out.

Keith sat before he could fall, the old couch catching his weight as he looked up at Lance in disbelief. He'd never been one for pop-culture, but he'd watched enough movies to know that they'd figure it out. They had to... right?

“What can we do? Why is this happening?” Keith said, his voice a little hoarse. Maybe a glass of water, or something stronger would help.

Lance smiled, and it made a cold feeling settle into his stomach. It was a knowing smile. The smile of something much wiser than him, the smile of a parent trying to soothe a restless child. It was a look that made Keith feel dumb, as though he didn't know anything, and he hated it immediately.

“I'm old, Keith,” Lance said, his eyes drawn as though even standing was beginning to be a great effort. “It's just my time soon. That's all.”

“No. I can't accept that.”

“It's just... nature.” Lance swayed on his feet in a way that had Keith right next to him in an instant. There was a weak smile, hardly even an upwards turn of his lips, and Lance was stumbling towards the bedroom. He collapsed on top of the bed with a heavy sigh. “Everything has its time, you know? I do too.”

“You're not old, you don't even have grey hair.” Keith wanted to make Lance comfortable if he were going to rest. He worked to remove Lance's clothing, being insistant even when Lance fought him a bit. Keith often felt like the child in their relationship, but at moments like this, when Lance whined, and tried to kick him away, Keith felt more like a parent.

“Well, that's true.” Lance spoke into the pillow so that Keith had to strain to hear him. He nearly corrected him, but this conversation wasn't like the ones they had before.

That Lance seemed so tired worried him. He'd just gotten back from a trip where he normally perked up for a while after. Was Lance right, and he wasn't getting any better? Keith laid down next to him, and tried to pull the blankets over them both, but Lance fussed again, and kicked them off. So Keith let it go, pressing Lance against his chest, and humming as Lance settled his head under his chin. Sweat clung to Lance's skin as though he were fevered, and his breathing was laboured.

“I think I need to quit my job,” Lance laughed, but there was a deep sadness in his tone that burrowed itself deep into Keith's chest. Lance loved his job.

“Yeah...” Keith smoothed a hand up and down Lance's back, not sure what else to do. He only hoped it was helping at least a little.

“Don't miss me. When I'm gone, okay?”

Keith's throat tightened. He wasn't ready for any of this. “Don't talk like that.”

“Keith... I'm tired.”

“So then rest. I'll be here.”

He felt Lance move against his chest in what he assumed was a nod. Keith breathed in slow, steady breaths, hoping Lance would pick up on his rhythm, and follow it. Lance was panting softly, hot huffs against his shirt, and Keith was regretting not removing his clothes too. Lance was warm enough for the two of them, and the clothing was just a barrier. If Lance really did have a limited amount of time left, Keith wanted to make the most of it.

After a long while, Lance's fevered pants began to slow, and his lithe body began to relax. Lance's grip on the front of Keith's shirt tightened, and loosened, muscles flexing as he fell asleep. Keith smiled. It was such a human thing.

Without anyone else around, the house was dark, illuminated by a lamp in the living room so some of the light spilled into the bedroom. At night it became so black Keith couldn't see his own hand in front of his face, and so the light was soothing. Keith hated the bright overhead lights unless he were working on a project.

Lance moaned in his sleep, and Keith rubbed his back again until he settled down. This quiet intimacy had become commonplace in their relationship. Relationship... is that what they had? Keith supposed they did.

In a moment of uncharacteristic spontaneity, Keith brushed his lips against the top of Lance's head. “You can't leave,” he hummed. “Not when I love you so damn much.”

 

The next morning Keith dragged Lance out of bed. This took some effort as Lance fought him. In a half-asleep state, Lance kicked out at him, but Keith grabbed his ankles, pulling until Lance hung half off the edge of the bed.

“Leave me alone. It's early.” Lance whined, and when he looked like he was going to move to crawl back up the bed, Keith threw some clothes at him.

“Get dressed. We're leaving,” Keith said.

Lance blinked over his shoulder in a way that could only be described as innocently adorable. “It's not even light yet. What time is it?”

“7 o'clock.”

“So then let's go back to sleep.”

“Up, Lance. Now.”

Keith swore that Lance growled at him from the bedroom as he walked through the living room and into the kitchen to put coffee into travel mugs for them both.

 

Keith didn't talk much as they drove in his truck. Lance yawned, hair disheveled as he sipped slowly on his coffee, his jacket slipping off one shoulder.

It was 'rush hour', and the highway was busier than usual, but in such a small town there was no congestion. At the very least there were no vehicles that had spun out yet. Even with winter tires, smaller cars could often be found in the ditch, and it was good for his business if Keith helped pull them out with his truck. He often got paid for it, and even if he didn't, being known as the friendly neighbourhood mechanic didn't hurt. His reliability and knowledge of his customer's vehicles was what kept the competition out, and he liked it that way.

“I can't wait for spring,” Lance mused next to him. His head was turned as he stared out the window looking a little more awake now. “The days get longer.”

“Mm. That's true,” Keith agreed.

They pulled into town just as a rush of cars were leaving. In less than an hour it would be a sleepy town again with most of its three-hundred residents working elsewhere. There was a more major city about 40 minutes south on the highway. Keith assumed that most of the people worked there.

As he pulled up to Pidge's house, it hadn't occurred to him to be socially polite. Keith was so focused on one thing, and one thing only.

“Follow me,” Keith directed, getting out of his truck, and walking up the perfectly shovelled walkway. He banged on Pidge's door, repeating when it wasn't answered within a few seconds.

“Whose house is this? It's amazing!” Lance said, his head swivelling this way and that, craning to look at the modern features.

“It's Pidge's.”

“Wow... why are we here when we could be in bed?”

Keith ignored Lance and continued pounding his fist against the door until it was yanked open. Pidge yawned, scratching his head, and glaring through the dark circles under his eyes.

“What?” Pidge growled.

“We have to talk,” Keith said, wanting to get right to the point. He didn't have the time to mess around.

Pidge's gaze slid from Keith to Lance and back to Keith, looking rather unimpressed. “Do you have any idea what time it is? I was up late grading papers... needless to say I was rather unimpressed, and I'm cranky.”

“Please, Pidge...”

Keith didn't know whether it was the earnest expression on his face, or Lance's friendly but unknowing smile over his shoulder that made Pidge heave a deep sigh, and step aside.

“Whoa! The inside is just as cool as the outside!” Lance exclaimed, but no one listened as Keith and Pidge went into the kitchen together.

“Don't wander around,” Pidge called to Lance who was still in the other room, likely enamoured by something. Keith supposed Pidge's house was more modern than his own. He lived in a tiny apartment above his shop, but it was nice enough. Pidge's house was huge in comparison, and full of all things breakable.

“So?” Pidge inquired, but he didn't move around to the coffee maker like Keith had expected. Instead, he leaned against the counter with a knowing look as Keith sat in a stool across from him. It was the same look Lance had given him last night, and Keith didn't like it at all.

“I want you to look at Lance,” Keith said, which drew a frown from his friend.

“I'm not a doctor, Keith. I fix machines, not people.”

“Please, I don't know who else to turn to.”

“What's going on anyway? You're being weird.”

Keith turned his head to look over his shoulder. In the other room he could hear Lance muttering quietly with the occasional exclamation. He wondered if Lance hadn't taken to playing with one of Pidge's inventions.

“He's... not well,” Keith started, not really sure how else to say it.

“Is he sick? He seemed okay.”

Keith's throat tightened so suddenly that it felt as though he couldn't breathe. It was too fresh in his mind, too soon. When had Lance gone from a booty call? Someone hot to fuck to... this? The thought of losing Lance made him feel as though a wrench were lodged in his throat. Bile burned up his chest and he struggled to swallow it down.

“Hey, don't strain yourself, okay?” Pidge moved to grab a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with fresh water from the fridge before placing it in front of Keith.

“He wants you to look at me because I'm dying.” Lance's voice, so casual despite speaking about such a serious thing, made Keith start. “I heard you,” Lance said in an almost fond tone, his hand smoothing up Keith's back.

“Oh I'm... uh -” Pidge began.

“It's okay. I knew it was coming, but unfortunately Keith didn't. Do you cook in here? This kitchen is awesome. This whole place is awesome. Can I see the upstairs?”

“No – wait. You're...” Pidge glanced at Keith who had taken to sipping his water, his heart trying to leap out of his chest. Maybe coming here wasn't such a great idea after all. He nearly felt faint. This conversation wasn't just between him and Lance anymore, it was real.

“I'm an old man,” Lance laughed. “But it's okay. I'm okay with it.”

“I'm... going to call Shiro,” Pidge said with a cautious tone.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally have a new [tumblr](https://neonnawrites.tumblr.com/). Feel free to stop by, and say hello!


End file.
